


Operation: Aloha

by Gort, sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Hawaii, Mutual Pining, RST, Simmons and Fitz start as strangers, Sunscreen, UST, Undercover Assignment, hawaiian shirts, interagency cooperation, mild violence, one bed, the beach, they don't end that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 79,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: AU.  Jemma Simmons works for S.H.I.E.L.D., helping save the world from her lab. On her first field mission, she's prepared for anything, except Leo Fitz, the brilliant and attractive MI6 agent she's been paired with. How is she supposed to survive two weeks undercover in Hawaii pretending to be his girlfriend? Fitz can hardly believe his luck when his partner turns out to be both smart and gorgeous, at least until they arrive at the resort and find that their hotel room comes with a slight problem: there's only one bed. A fake-dating AU with sun, sand, volcanoes, snorkeling, Spam, luaus, intrigue and two people who find a lot more than they expected in paradise.





	1. Hoʻomaka

**Author's Note:**

> Odd chapters written by sunalso, evens by gort.

Banner by the amazing [@eclecticmuses](http://eclecticmuses.tumblr.com/) ([commissions](http://eclecticmuses.tumblr.com/post/141491555211/art-commissions)/[redbubble](https://www.redbubble.com/people/eclecticmuse)) 

 

Jemma was as prepared as she’d ever been. 

  
This was her first mission in the field, and she was going to excel at it. She had read every guidebook on Hawaii, brushed up on her Russian, bought new clothes, packed enough sunscreen for three people, and had a trendy novel in her carry-on bag. 

  
She knew what gate at LAX her flight to Hawaii was leaving from. She knew how to covertly contact her ground team once she was at the resort. She knew her fake backstory, as a cancer researcher from a small biotech firm, as well as she knew her actual history. She’d memorized the brochure and conference schedule for the Symposium on Cancer and Biotechnology that was her cover for being at the resort, but what she would be really doing was looking for terrorists, possibly out of Russia, who would be there to steal some technology that Stark industries was going to be showing off. 

  
There was only one thing she wasn’t ready for: meeting her MI6 contact. They were supposed to find each other at the bar in the terminal, spend a few moments getting to know each other, and then spend two weeks pretending to be a couple while they tailed the men at the resort and reported their actions. It was a joint US/British mission, with Britain supplying someone that was supposed to complement her skill set. 

  
No one knew exactly what the Russians were up to, so her biochem experience was being matched with engineering expertise to cover whatever problem might be eventually uncovered.

  
It shouldn’t be that big a deal, except that Jemma hadn’t had a boyfriend in two years and had never been excellent at being part of a couple. Being part of a fake couple was going to be even more difficult, which was why she was drinking tea from Starbucks while squished into the corner of an empty hallway and talking to Agent Johnson, who was not only going to be part of her support team in Hawaii but was also her good friend. 

  
“I can’t do this,” Jemma hissed into the phone. 

  
Daisy laughed. “Yes, you can. You’ve been cramming like it’s finals week to get ready for this.” 

  
Jemma snorted. She’d never had to cram for a final in her life. Study, yes, but she’d always meticulously scheduled everything out both in uni and at the Academy. It’d been lonely, sometimes, but she’d simply taken extra coursework to make up for the fact she’d not had anyone to talk to. 

  
“It’s the pretending to be dating some guy, part, isn’t it?” Daisy asked. 

  
“I only ever had the one boyfriend, and we broke up when I left Sci-Ops to work for Coulson’s team. And I don’t know anything about this guy. I don’t even know his name. What if he’s all…I don’t know…James Bond like?”

  
“Your biggest fear is he’ll like his martinis shaken and not stirred?” 

  
“That’s not what I mean. What if…what if he’s all muscly and kick-ass?” 

  
Daisy made a very exasperated noise. “You’re concerned he might look good in a speedo? Jemma…the dude is supposed to be an expert in engineering. I think you’re getting Q, not James Bond. And I think what you’re really worried about is that you’re going to end up stuck with someone nowhere near as smart as you and you’re going to have to pretend to be all over him.”

  
“Okay, um, maybe that last part.” Jemma drank the dregs of her tea and tossed the cup in a nearby bin. “What if he’s super attractive? I look okay, I guess, but it’s not going to be believable if he’s handsome and I’m…me.” 

  
“Jemma, you’re lovely, and what if he’s butt ugly? What if you have to kiss some guy that can’t figure out how to brush his teeth?”

  
She wrinkled up her nose. “I have to kiss him?” 

  
“Uh, yeah. You’re supposed to be a couple. Now get over yourself and go meet Mr. Engineering.”

  
“Fine.” 

  
Jemma ended the call and dropped her mobile into her bag. She raised her chin. She could do this. As a trained SHIELD operative she’d faced much worse things than kissing some guy she didn’t know, who was probably as dumb as a box of rocks. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind that she knew a lot more about everything than he did and would simply follow her lead. 

  
Dodging other passengers, she made her way through the terminal to the small bar where she was meeting her contact. She darted into a restroom to check in the mirror and make sure her hair was still neatly in its ponytail, her lipstick wasn’t on her teeth, and the plain light blue blouse and jeans she had on didn’t have any stains. Satisfied, she hefted the strap of her carry-on bag over her shoulder and headed into the bar. 

  
There was only one person there. Sitting on the stool furthest from the door was a man, a drink on the bar in front of him, next to a guidebook for Hawaii. The book was how they were supposed to know they had the right person. She pulled her own, a different one from what he had, out of her bag and clutched it against her chest. His back was broad, and there was what looked like a copied off scientific article in his hand.

  
He was also talking into a cell phone, his voice laced with a distinctive Scottish burr. 

  
“Hunter, I’m telling you this is a bloody lousy idea. I’m sure this American woman is going to probably be one of those that’ll staple my balls to the wall the first time I do something to annoy her. Which won’t be hard. I’ll just have to open my mouth and say something she doesn’t understand, and she’ll be completely brassed off…yes, I know dumb Americans are just a stereotype…this is never going to work. She’ll probably be a tan beach bunny and—”

  
“Excuse me,” Jemma said before she overheard anything else. “I do believe you’re who I’m supposed to be meeting here?” 

  
Surprised, the man spun around. 

  
Oh no. Jemma’s hand tightened on the book she was holding. The guy was all curly brown hair, scruff, and wide blue eyes. Crud, MI6 had sent someone way out of her league. Was he some specialist who’d taken an engineering course once?

  
She stuck out her hand. “Hello, Jemma Simmons, biochem.”

  
The guy was staring at her chest…er, the guidebook, but then dragged his gaze back to her face. “Fitz, Leopold Fitz, engineering.” 

  
Fitz. She rather liked that. 

  
He blinked and his mobile fell from his fingers to clatter on the bar. She started to reach over to retrieve it, but his palm met hers as he shook her hand. Fire raced up her arm, and she gasped softly. Letting him go, she took a step back. Never taking his gaze from her, Fitz managed to get ahold of his phone. 

  
“I’ll call you back,” he said to the person on the other end and ended the call.

  
She didn’t know what to say. Her eyes went to the now crumpled article he was holding. “Er, what are you reading?”

  
Fitz opened and closed his mouth a few times and then shoved the papers at her. She took them, but now with both hands full, she wasn’t sure what to do. 

  
“S-s-sit,” he said, gesturing to the stool beside him. Oh, good, that would work. She sat down, putting the papers on the bar and returning her guidebook to her bag, which she put on her lap.    
Smoothing out the papers, she read the title of the work. Her eyebrows went up.

“This is about dielectric polarization?”

  
“Er…yes?” Fitz downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. 

  
She quickly skimmed through the article. “Have you read—” Jemma couldn’t stop herself as she recited several recent works and conference abstracts. 

  
Fitz lit up. 

  
Ten minutes later they were still discussing relevant applications. 

  
He was brilliant. 

  
Smart and cute. It was a deadly combination. 

  
Panic bubbled up in her chest. She wasn’t prepared for this at all. Checking her phone, she was relieved to see there was still some time before boarding. “I’m just going to visit the ladies’ room,” she said. “Is it alright if I leave my bag?” Fitz nodded, and holding onto her phone like it was a lifeline, she rushed into the WC. It was empty, but she hid in a stall anyway and dialed Daisy. 

  
“How’d it go?” her friend asked. 

  
“This is terrible,” Jemma said, her voice wavering. 

  
“Sounds like you’re hiding in a bathroom.”

  
“I am hiding in a bathroom.”

  
“That bad?”

  
“No…it wasn’t bad at all. He’s incredibly bright. I felt like I was talking with someone about my scientific work instead of just at them.”

  
Daisy made a happy sound. “That’s excellent. See? You had nothing to worry about.”

  
“No. I-I-“ She leaned against the side of the stall.

  
“What’s wrong? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  
“Oh, Daisy…he’s ever so handsome.”

  
There was silence for a moment, then a very loud laugh. Jemma frowned and held the phone away from her ear, not returning it until Daisy had gotten some control over herself. 

  
“it’s not funny,” Jemma said tersely. 

  
“Oh god, yes it is. You’re the calmest, most collected person I know. I envy how you keep your head under stress, and now you’re having a meltdown because you have to pretend date a smart and cute guy at a luxury resort. How terrible.” 

  
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to be all calm and collected when…” She trailed off, and her fingers brushed over her lips. Kissing. There was supposed to be kissing. She couldn’t kiss…Fitz. On his perfectly shaped, impossibly soft looking lips. She’d never recover. “I need to be professional,” she finally managed to squeak. 

  
“Absolutely. What’d this dreamboat think about you?”

  
Jemma sighed. “I think he’s…glad that I’m clever.”

  
“See? He was probably expecting to be bored too. Now you can keep each other entertained talking about science goobeldy-gook that makes the rest of us cross our eyes. Do you think he finds you attractive too?”

  
“I doubt it. I’m so mousy next to him. He’s probably got a girlfriend already, one who’s mad about him going on this mission. I know I would be upset.”

  
Daisy snorted. “I’m sure you would be. Well, you only have to sit next to him on a plane for six hours now and get to know him better. I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’ll see you later. Bye!”

  
Jemma dropped her hand down. Six hours on a plane shoulder to shoulder with Fitz. She hoped he had a lot more articles to talk about and not endless slideshows of all the fun and exciting vacations he and his gorgeous girlfriend had been on together. 

  
****

  
Fitz watched Jemma disappear into the loo and immediately grabbed his mobile. Thankfully the screen wasn’t cracked from him dropping it. She had to think he was a right wanker, stumbling over his words, fumbling his mobile, staring at her bloody tits like he’d never seen a woman before. 

  
She was gorgeous, and then she’d plucked that article out of his hands, and he’d discovered there was an absolutely brilliant mind whirring behind all that beautiful exterior. 

  
He ordered a beer and dialed Hunter. 

  
“How’d it go, mate? She the harpy you expected?”

  
Fitz couldn’t speak. 

  
“Fitz? You there?”

  
“Y-y-yes.”

  
“Are you okay?”

  
“Jemma…she’s-she’s…” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Hunter, I can’t do this.”

  
“What? Why?”

  
“She’s everything I never knew I was missing.”

  
“You mean she doesn’t look bored two seconds after you open your trap?”

  
“She’s smart, really smart. And completely stunning.”

  
Hunter chuckled. “Sounds like you’re about to nut in your pants over her.”

  
“What, no,” Fitz hissed. 

  
“Hey, I call them as I see them. And you have the hots for your fake date.”

  
Fitz put a hand over his eyes. “Just…don’t.”

  
“Ah, so you’ll still respect her in the morning, then?”

  
“I’m not…bloody hell.” He didn’t know what he was doing. He was way out of his depth. “I don’t know why I agreed to do this. I make gadgets. I don’t go out in the field.”

  
“Which make you perfect for undercover work.”

  
Fitz stifled a groan as in his mind, being undercover with Jemma slid over to being undercovers with her. “She has to be in a relationship with someone,” he said. “As beautiful and intelligent as she is, someone has had to snap her up by now. I’m sure I’ll get to hear all about him and how many pushups he can do.”

  
“That is weirdly specific. And I bet you’ll find out all about this girl since you’re about to spend a six-hour flight with her and then two weeks in a hotel room alone with her.”

  
Fitz plunked his head down on the bar, face first. “Help.” 

 

 


	2. Hoʻokahi Moe

****  
Jemma took a deep breath and washed her hands just to give herself something to do, trying desperately to remain calm. Right. All she had to do was focus on the mission. She and Fitz would probably be much, much too busy tracking down Russians to bother with kissing. Hopefully. She just had to keep her head and be professional. Squaring her shoulders, she headed back to the bar. 

 

Fitz was whispering into his mobile as Jemma caught sight of him again. Her heart simultaneously leapt as she drank him in, his free hand mussing his curly hair even further, and sank as she realized he was obviously anxious about something. 

 

“I’m not going to do that!” He spotted her at that moment, his eyes widening. “Gotta go.” He set his phone down and cleared his throat, fidgeting with a drink coaster. 

 

He’d obviously been trying to reassure his girlfriend, Jemma realized. Who was likely some perfect combination of attractiveness and intelligence and understandably miffed that her gorgeous boyfriend was spending two weeks on a tropical island with another woman. Because of course in addition to everything else, he would be a devoted partner. 

 

Jemma stifled a wistful sigh. Some girls just had all the luck.    
  


She pasted on a bright smile. “Well, I think we’ll be boarding soon. Shall we head to the gate?”    
  


“Uh, yeah, I mean, yes, of course,” Fitz said, fumbling for his carryon. He tucked his cell phone into his pocket and picked up Jemma’s bag just as she was reaching for it, only to immediately drop it back onto the barstool the moment their hands collided.    
  


Jemma snatched her hand back as well, feeling her face flush as she tried to ignore the echo of a spark shooting up her arm. “I can…”   
  


“I’ll get it,” Fitz said at the same time. “Since we’re supposed to be, you know.” His cheeks were a little pink. “Together.”    
  


“Oh, of course,” Jemma replied. She couldn’t recall her one and only boyfriend ever trying to carry anything for her, but she supposed that was something other couples did. The problem was, now she didn’t have anything to do with her hands. She smoothed down the front of her shirt nervously as Fitz slung their bags onto one shoulder and followed him out of the bar.   
  


“What position do you like?” Fitz asked after a short silence.   
  


“What?” Jemma squeaked.   
  


“Think I have the window. We can trade if you want.” Fitz held out his boarding pass and she automatically took it from him, trying to regain control over her pounding heart. She’d known this man for barely ten minutes and her hormones were already out of control. Two whole weeks with him were going to be absolute torture.    
  


“Thank you,” she managed, “but I have an aisle seat. I’ll be fine.”    
  


“Oh.” A faint frown crossed Fitz’s face. “We’re not sitting together?”    
  


Now Jemma was frowning. “I guess not.” She thought that he looked disappointed, but that couldn’t be right.    
  


She nearly jumped out of her skin a moment later when something touched the back of her hand. Glancing down, she saw Fitz’s fingers hesitantly brush hers and she tried to relax. Their fingers intertwined, and something fluttered low in her belly. His hand fit perfectly with hers. She was starting to understand the reasons behind all that sappy, romantic nonsense people sometimes spouted about their significant others, even if this relationship was a fraud.    
  


This mission was going to be complete and utter torture.   
  


***   
  


They arrived at their gate a few minutes later and Fitz was relieved to see they’d already started boarding.    
  


Taking Jemma’s hand earlier had just seemed so natural he hadn’t really thought it through, but now his palms were getting sweaty because he was holding the hand of the gorgeous, brilliant woman he was going to be spending the next two weeks working with and there was absolutely no way he wasn’t going to completely bollox this up. How had he ended up agreeing to this mission again?    
  


“I can take my bag,” Jemma said, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiling at him as they got line with the rest of the passengers.   
  


Releasing her hand, Fitz passed over her bag and watched a tiny crease appear between her brows as she rummaged for her boarding pass. Thank god for their cover story, because he was sure he had a ridiculously soppy look on his face just then. Of all the ways he’d ever imagined meeting the woman of his dreams, this hadn’t even been a blip on his radar.    
  


The realization that Jemma had to have someone waiting for her back home crashed over him like a bucket of icy water. Her boyfriend was probably some macho guy like Hunter or Mack with the confidence of ten men, who could probably bench press that many as well. Jemma had let Fitz hold her hand because that was their assignment, and he’d almost forgotten it wasn’t real. All his damn field training hadn’t prepared him for this level of torment in the least.    
  


Fitz tore his gaze from her as she looked up, her boarding pass triumphantly held in her hand.   
  


“Here it is,” Jemma said.    
  


Shuffling along in the long line, Fitz cast around for something to say. “So,” he began.   
  


“I brought along plenty of reading material, if you’d like to borrow anything,” Jemma said, pulling a few more things out of her bag. “I got a bit behind and thought this would be the perfect time to catch up.”    
  


“I’ve got…” Fitz trailed off as he caught a glimpse of the titles and plucked one out of her hands. “Oh, there’s a brilliant article in here. Let me see if I can find it. I’ve been working on a…ah, here it is.”    
  


“Neurotoxins?” Jemma asked curiously, taking the journal back.    
  


“Paralytics, specifically. It’s got some great potential as a less lethal…erm.” The woman just ahead of them in line had turned to stare in confusion.    
  


“I see,” Jemma said slowly, her eyes darting to the woman as well. “You’re right.” Her voice got a bit louder and clearer. “That certainly could be helpful for pain management in cancer patients.”    
  


Fitz was thrown for a split second before he remembered their cover story, and then he nodded. Jemma gave him a beaming smile that lit up her face and made him want to do a hell of a lot more than hold her hand.    
  


He followed her blindly onto the plane and down the aisle to their assigned seats where somehow, while he stashed his bag in the overhead bin, Jemma managed to convince someone to swap out with her so she could sit next to him.   
  


“Would have looked a bit strange if I hadn’t tried,” she whispered in his ear as they settled in. “And don’t think you’ve gotten out of telling me about your ideas for that neurotoxin.” Fitz could only nod as the plane began to pull away from the gate.    
  


Jemma absently took his hand and leaned over him to peer out the window as the plane lifted off the ground, her hair tickling his nose and the scent of something sweet washing over him.    
  


He rarely wished his life were different, even if things hadn’t been easy when he was growing up. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and if it’d been a bit lonely on occasion, well, being a part of one of the world’s most prestigious spy agencies more than made up for his personal sacrifices. Most of the time. Now though, he found himself imagining what his life could have been like with Jemma at his side.    
  


Two weeks. They were going to spend two weeks together, and then she was going to go back to her boyfriend and her friends and he’d never see her again.     
  


He was doomed.   
  


***    
  


Jemma was deep in the article Fitz had recommended when he put his hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. Biting back a surprised squeak, she jerked her head up, hoping that by the time they arrived in Hawaii she would stop blushing like a schoolgirl every time he touched her. 

 

He lifted his eyebrows and nodded in the direction of the aisle.    
  


“Something to drink?” the clearly impatient flight attendant asked, a pencil poised over her notepad.    
  


“Water?” She glanced at Fitz.    
  


“Same,” he said, going back to his reading. His hand slipped off her knee and she told herself she was not allowed to miss it. She was also not allowed to imagine it sliding up her leg, possibly while she was wearing a skirt, his fingers caressing her inner thighs and…no, definitely not allowed to imagine that at all. Jemma reached up to open the air vent over her head. The plane was really getting quite warm.    
  


“Your first time?” the women who’d been kind enough to switch seats with Jemma asked, lowering her novel.    
  


“Of course not!” Jemma replied quickly before she realized what the woman was really asking. “Oh, going to Hawaii? Yes.”   
  


“No,” Fitz said at the same time.    
  


The woman looked between the two of them, confused.    
  


“It’s not his first time,” Jemma tried to recover, feeling her face heat up again. “To Hawaii, I mean, but I’ve never been.”    
  


“You have to go snorkeling, it’s just amazing.” The woman leaned forward slightly so she could see Fitz. “You’re taking her to see the lava fields?”    
  


“Er, yeah, of course.” Fitz glanced at Jemma and then looked away again. She knew they weren’t really dating, but his lack of enthusiasm for their fake getaway stung a little.    
  


“It’s a work trip, actually.” Jemma tried to regain control of herself, and this conversation. She and Fitz might as well get used to telling their cover story. “We’re attending a medical symposium.”    
  


“We specialize in cancer research,” Fitz added, not looking up from the tablet he’d pulled out of his bag. She could just make out some sort of schematic on the screen.

 

The woman looked suitably impressed. “Oh, well, I still hope you have a chance to explore some of the island.”    
  


“I’m sure we will,” Jemma said with a polite smile. The woman nodded and went back to her novel.    
  


Fitz shifted next to her, his shoulder brushing hers as he propped his elbow on their shared armrest, and Jemma found it hard to focus on the article she was reading. She hadn’t slept much the night before, having packed and repacked a half-dozen times while Daisy lounged in her room and made many unhelpful comments about how Jemma was supposed to be going on a tropical vacation, not entering a nunnery.    
  


Despite Jemma’s protests that she had to have appropriate attire for the conference lectures, she’d ended up with quite a few more dresses, skirts, and filmy tops than she’d planned on taking, plus the three swimsuits that Daisy had insisted she had to have. In the end it had seemed a ridiculous amount of clothing for such a short trip, but, as Daisy had so unhelpfully pointed out, Jemma did like to be prepared.    
  


The attendant had brought their waters and Jemma had dutifully finished it in an attempt to remain hydrated in the dry air of the plane. She bit her tongue to keep from pointing out to Fitz that he should consider doing the same. He was really quite engrossed in whatever design he was working on. She caught glimpses of several different intriguing devices, he was obviously quite skilled. 

 

She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the hum of the engine and the warmth of Fitz’s arm pressed against hers was pulling her down into sleep, and she finally succumbed.    
  


***   
  


Fitz didn’t dare move.    
  


He could feel the plane descending and knew they must be close to Oahu, but Jemma’s head was resting against his shoulder and he could smell her shampoo and she just looked so peaceful he couldn’t bear to wake her.    
  


For the moment he could imagine they really were going on holiday, like the woman in the aisle seat had assumed. The thought of Jemma snorkeling, wearing nothing but a flimsy bikini, had short-circuited his brain earlier, and it’d taken everything he had to push it out of his mind. He’d pulled out his tablet to share the initial design he’d come up with for delivering a neurotoxin with her, but then Jemma had hidden a yawn behind her hand and her head had started to droop and how could he do anything but make his shoulder available and help her avoid a horrible crick in her neck?   
  


He wasn’t entirely sure she realized she’d fallen asleep on him, but he felt quite pleased with himself all the same.    
  


The plane banked and he glanced out the window at the dazzling blue water below as Jemma stirred beside him. She made a surprised noise and lifted her head.    
  


“We’re landing soon,” Fitz said as she opened her mouth, looking apologetic.    
  


He hadn’t minded her using him as a pillow, even if he was sure she was disappointed that his shoulder was nothing like her boyfriend’s broad, muscled one, but they couldn’t say those things without blowing their cover, so it was probably best if they just ignored the whole incident.    
  


Jemma’s eyes slid away from his and she took in the view outside the window. “Oh, good.”    
  


“Didn’t take too long, did it?” he said.    
  


“Even faster when you’ve apparently fallen asleep,” Jemma replied. “Fitz, I…”   
  


“We should be at the hotel by dark,” Fitz continued determinedly. “Do you think the others have arrived?”    
  


Jemma shot him a curious look but nodded. “I’m sure they have. The conference starts tomorrow, after all.”    
  


He could hear the landing gear lowering as they approached the runway and they followed the lead of the rest of the passengers, packing away their things while listening to the people around them excitedly making plans. No one mentioned anything about the medical symposium they were going to attend, nor did anyone sound particularly Russian.    
  


He noticed Jemma listening intently as well, and she gave him a small, knowing smile that made his heart thump a little faster.    
  


They exited the plane in a crush of people, making their way to baggage claim to retrieve their luggage and then stepping out through the glass doors as the evening rays of the sun lit up the sky overhead. The air was muggy and warm, and the colors around them were dazzlingly bright.    
  


Fitz searched through his bag, squinting, as Jemma hailed a taxi and a group of tourists went by, laughing loudly and wearing flower leis around their necks.    
  


By the time he dug out his sunglasses, the last of the sunlight was fading and Jemma had their things loaded and ready to go. She leaned out the door of the taxi and lifted her eyebrows. “Are you coming?”    
  


“What?” Fitz jerked his gaze up from the open collar of her shirt, hoping she hadn’t caught him staring at her tits like a complete wanker. Again.    
  


She slid over to make room for him and he climbed in the back seat with her, automatically pulling out his phone to let his team know he’d arrived. He noticed Jemma doing the same.    
  


**Join the mile-high club?** Hunter texted.    
  


**Shut it** , Fitz replied, glancing at Jemma out of the corner of his eye. The tiny, amused smile on her face as she typed away on her phone made his heart clench. She was probably letting her boyfriend know she’d arrived and reassuring him that he had nothing to worry about. There was no way Fitz could compete with some elite super-spy who could probably kill people with his pinky finger.   
  


If Fitz was going to make it through this mission, he was just going to have to concentrate on the job and not on how incredible Jemma Simmons was. Thank god they only had to pretend to be a couple in public.    
  


The resort was busy enough that Jemma left Fitz in charge of their bags while she checked them in, his phone chiming away with increasingly lewd texts from Hunter that he’d ignored for the better part of the last hour.    
  


Jemma reemerged from the crowd and, in hindsight, he probably should have noticed that she looked a bit nervous.   
  


She stopped in front of a room on the fourth floor and unlocked it, letting him push the door open.   
  


He heard her inhale sharply and he glanced around, frowning. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.    
  


“Is this mine or yours?”    
  


“Ours.”    
  


“What?” Fitz spun towards her, his heart leaping into his throat. “But…”   
  


Jemma gestured weakly at the room they were going to share for the next two weeks. “We’re…we’re supposed to be on holiday together.”    
  


“Yeah, right, okay.” Fitz ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, trying and failing to avoid looking at the bed.    
  


The one and only bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Gort's first published FitzSimmons fic ;-) 
> 
> (And yes, dear, I just tattled on you)


	3. Moeʻuhane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This weekend has been hard on the fandom. We figured a little awkward bed sharing might help? *Group Hug*

Fitz let his bag thunk on the ground. One bed. It wasn’t even that big. It’d be impossible to ignore the fact that the incredible woman he would be working with was going to be sleeping mere inches away from him.

 

Maybe a foot, if they both were right on the edge.

 

“Er…” he managed, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

Jemma sighed. “Nothing to be done for it. The resort is booked solid with the conference, and it would look very odd if we went back and argued we needed a second bed. I’m certain most couples wouldn’t be doing that.”

 

“It’s a mistake…” he trailed off.

 

“Certainly. But we’ll do just fine. We’re agents of prestigious institutions after all. I’m certain there have been many times my friends have had to sleep in much less hospitable circumstances.”

 

She sounded nervous. Was she nervous? He was nervous.

 

Wait.

 

“I’ll take the floor,” he mumbled.

 

“Nonsense. We’re here for two weeks. You’d be incredibly uncomfortable. No, we’ll make do.” 

 

Jemma smiled a little too widely, and then as if on cue they both picked up their bags and headed for the bed. He automatically went for the side he slept on, and she went to the other.

 

He set his bag down, but paused as he reached to open it. “Is this okay? I mean the sides? I can switch if you usually sleep on this side.”

 

Jemma looked up from her open suitcase, her brows drawn together. “Actually, this side is the one I usually sleep on.”

 

“Oh,” he said. He opened his bag and hastily grabbed his pants and socks and shoved them into a drawer. Jemma came back with hangers from the closet, those weird ones hotels always had, and began neatly arranging her slacks, skirts, and blouses. Once she’d gotten all her things situated, she reached over and grabbed a set of his trousers and put them on a hanger. “I can get it,” he said gruffly. He didn’t need her to be his mum.

 

Jemma stopped what she was doing. “S-sorry, I was thinking about the neurotoxin article and how I’d improve…I just wasn’t paying attention, and I assumed you’d want your nice things hung up as well.”

 

“I do, but I can get it.” He didn’t know exactly why her doing it made him cross. Maybe because she simply had, like putting away a man’s clothes was second nature to her.

 

Because she probably did it all the time for her superhero boyfriend.

 

He snuck a glance at her. She was going through her toiletries bag with what looked like a long shirt over her arm.

 

Jemma sighed. “I’m going to have a shower.”

 

“Wait,” he said, and she paused halfway to the bathroom. “I need to use the restroom first.”

 

“Of course, sorry, I should have asked.”

 

He hurried past her, shut the door, and used the loo. He took a deep breath as he washed his hands. He was cursed.

 

****

In the bathroom, after Fitz had vacated it, Jemma neatly laid out all her personal care items on the bathroom counter, frowning at how Fitz had simply dropped his toiletries bag on the counter. She hovered her hands over it, not sure if he’d get mad at her for arranging his stuff, but it would drive her around the bend if he never unpacked it.

 

Swallowing down her apprehension, she quickly pulled out everything and arranged it next to hers before dropping the empty bag in the vanity drawer along with the one she’d brought.

 

There, that was better, except that Fitz had forgotten toothpaste. Thankfully, she had lots.

 

Jemma showered quickly, did her skincare routine, and blow dried her hair before putting on the plain blue nightgown she’d brought. It was loose fitting and went to her knees, but she still felt exposed when she exited the bathroom.

 

Fitz’s eyes were comically round as he looked at her. He was sitting on the bed, legs stretched out over the covers, and with his computer on his lap. He’d changed too, and she felt odd that she could see his knees and elbows now. It was intimate, somehow.

 

“I’m done,” she said, which was probably completely unnecessary. Fitz nodded.

 

“Just going to brush my teeth.” He closed his laptop and leaned it against the nightstand.

 

“You can use my toothpaste,” Jemma said, twisting her hands in her nightgown as he rose and walked past her into the bathroom. She followed him with her eyes, blushing furiously when she realized she was staring at his backside. He had boxers on and a ratty t-shirt, and it felt so weird to be in the same room as someone in their regular pajamas who she’d just met.

 

Fitz closed the bathroom door, and Jemma hurried to get under the covers on the bed. The sheets were a pristine white while the bedspread had a tropical pattern with palm trees and pineapples on it.

 

Jemma pulled down the covers on his side of the bed for Fitz. His side, which was absurdly close to her side.

 

She laid down on her back and stared at the ceiling. She’d never even had a one-night stand. Not that this was anything like that, although a tiny corner of her mind seemed to wish it was. She frowned. An awkward sexual encounter would so not be better than working closely with Fitz for several weeks. Not at all. She simply would have to deal with the hormonal excesses of her body and be a professional. This was her first field mission. She couldn’t afford to mess it up.

 

Fitz exited the bathroom. “You put my stuff away,” he said.

 

“I didn’t think you’d want to live out of a bag for so long.”

 

He frowned. “Well, no. But it’s a bit embarrassing to have someone in my things. What if I’d had condoms in there?”

 

“But you didn’t.” She ignored the disappointment she felt at that. Obviously, he wasn’t the kind of man to randomly seduce women. Pity. Though, taken like he had to be, he certainly wouldn’t have been planning to…she cut off that line of thought.

 

“That’s beside the point,” he said.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“No, it was nice…just…”

 

“Weird?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be weird. Or make you think I’m weird. Or...just sorry. I like things being tidy.” 

 

Fitz closed his eyes briefly. “I’ve noticed.”

 

He got into the bed and laid down, clicking the light off on his nightstand. He was on his back as well, and close enough that Jemma could feel his body heat.

 

She stared at the ceiling some more, which was still very visible. Fitz had left the bathroom light on.

 

“You didn’t turn the light off,” she said.

 

“I figured it’d be nice in case one of us has to get up during the night.”

 

“Oh.” She closed her eyes, but she could still tell the light was on. “It’s kind of bright,” she said, tilting her head towards Fitz.

 

He didn’t look at her. “It’s not really.”

 

“I can’t sleep with it on. If we need to see during the night, we can turn one of the bedside lamps on.”

 

“Fine,” he grumbled, getting up and clicking off the light. “Better?” he asked as he got back into bed.

 

“Much, thank you.”

 

He lay on his back again and pulled the covers up to his chin. Which meant they were up to her chin as well as she lay very, very still.

 

She could hear him breathing.

 

Why did he have to breathe? It was just reminding her he was right there.

 

Ok, Jemma, she scolded herself, that’s not really fair, though she was doing her best not to breathe overly intrusively. As tightly wound as all her nerves were, she wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep any time soon. A little carbon dioxide retention might help with that.  

 

If she wasn’t so hot. The comforter was stifling. Annoyed, she pushed it away from her face.

A moment later Fitz grunted and the next thing she knew, the quilt was back up over her chin.

Ugh.

 

“Fitz,” she hissed. “Aren’t you hot?”

 

“No?” he said after a couple of heartbeats.

 

She sighed.

 

“Uh, are you?”

 

She halfway sat up and glared at him. She supposed he was used to being wrapped up tight because whatever leggy blonde he was with didn’t have enough subcutaneous tissue to keep her comfortable. He probably liked her like that. She frowned at his handsome—no, exceedingly annoying—face.

 

One of his eyes popped open. “We could turn up the air?” he said.

 

“Fine.” Why did he have to be reasonable like that? She clicked the lamp on her nightstand on.

 

“Wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d left the bathroom light on.”

 

She grit her teeth and didn’t respond as she turned up the AC unit. Cold air came out, but it made a less than wonderful noise.

 

“I can fix that in the morning,” Fitz mumbled. She just bet he could.

 

Turning the lamp off with a decisive flick, she crawled back under the covers, which she now needed pulled up as well. Sighing, Jemma tried to relax again. Fitz was a solid presence next to her, and the mattress was ever so slightly depressed towards his side so that, if she wasn’t careful, she’d roll right into him. 

 

There was a long stretch of time in which she didn’t move.

 

“You asleep?” Fitz asked as she listened to sound of rushing water that meant the guest in the room next to theirs was taking a shower. Fitz’s arm moved, and the calloused pads of his fingers swept over the back of her hand where it rested on the bed.

 

She gasped as a bolt of lightning swept up her arm and down to make the area between her legs throb.

 

Hormones. It was just hormones.

 

Jemma snatched her hand away. “No, I’m awake.”

 

“Oh, good. What do you want to do for breakfast?”

 

That’s what he wanted to talk about? A single touch from him had plucked her like a violin string and left her humming with something she didn’t want to name, and he was worried about breakfast?

 

“The resort serves a nice continental breakfast,” she said. “I’m sure that would be more than adequate.”

 

“Okay, and I guess the other resort guests and conference attendees seeing us eating together first thing in the morning would be a good thing.”

 

Jemma made a noncommittal sound in reply. “Do you drink coffee in the morning?”

 

“No, tea.” Fitz rolled onto his side facing away from her.

 

She risked looking at his back. “Me too. Nice cuppa always starts the day right.”

 

“It does…goodnight, Jemma.”

 

“Goodnight, Fitz.” It sounded so natural when she said it, as if she’d wished him the same a thousand times before.

 

She shifted until she was on her side as well, also facing away from him, and listened to the not-quite-right air conditioner run. She didn’t know what had possessed her to ask about his preference in morning beverages, but she wished she hadn’t.

 

Now he was not only the fantastically handsome secret agent she was going to be pretending to date, he was the fantastically handsome secret agent she was going to be pretending to date who liked tea. Her training had not equipped her to handle that.

 

Exactly how was she supposed to deal with being in the same bed as the man of her dreams?

 

****

 

Fitz woke up comfortable and warm, with no alarm clock blaring in his ear.

 

That was wonderful.

 

He’d been dreaming, something about equations dealing with magnets, and he ran over a few he remembered clearly from his classes in uni while his body slowly joined him in wakefulness. 

He was lying on his side, and his arm was close to being asleep. It was too much work to wiggle it, though he’d be doing a lot more than that in a moment since he had a bad case of morning wood straining at the front of his boxers. Not that it was an unusual way for him to wake up.

He stretched and…bloody hell.

 

A soft, feminine body was curled up with him. It shifted, and his prick was treated to the feeling of the woman’s backside pressing against him. Dear lord…were her knickers lace? It felt like they were lace.

 

What was…? Who?

 

Jemma.

 

He was spooning Jemma.

 

Oh god.

 

Her hair smelled lovely, and she fit perfectly against him, and—

 

With a yip, he jerked his hips away from her.

 

She stirred again.

 

“Fitz?” she said hoarsely.

 

His mind went completely blank.

 

She fussed and turned over to face him. As she blinked and cleared the haze of sleep from her eyes, she must have figured out that they were very close because the color drained from her face and she sat up on the side of the bed abruptly.

 

“Sorry,” she said without turning around. “In my sleep, I don’t know...”

 

He couldn’t find his tongue. Jemma was probably used to sleeping with her strapping boyfriend and cuddling in the morning with him. He probably rolled her over and gave her a couple of screaming orgasms before breakfast.

 

The thought knocked Fitz out of his stupor.

 

What was she going to think of him? That he’d been hitting on her, not respecting her boundaries? He sighed and rubbed his face. Her significant other would rip Fitz’s face off for touching her like that, and it’d be totally justified. Fitz had even rubbed his cock against her—admittedly very nice—bum, and if she was his girl he’d beyond upset over someone else doing the same to her.

 

Guilt settled into the pit of his stomach.

 

He looked around, meaning to apologize, but she was raising her hands as she stretched and yawned. The nightgown she was wearing was all crumpled, and it lifted along with her arms, giving him the perfect view of the curves of her ass encased in a delicate looking pair of pink lace panties.

 

His apology turned into an unintentional whimper.

 

“Oh, Fitz,” she said dropping her arms, and he lost sight of heaven as her nightgown covered her again. “We overslept. The continental breakfast is already over.”

 

“Uh, I…I…probably somewhere else. Food.”

 

Jemma looked over her shoulder at him.

 

“I still need to shower,” he said bolting for the safety of the bathroom.

 

Two weeks. It was only two weeks.

 

He splashed cold water on his face and desperately tried not to think about the brilliant scientist in pink knickers on the other side of the door.

 

It was going to be a two-week eternity.


	4. ʻO Ka Kakahiaka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We post twice this week- so make sure you've read chapter three first! And more *hugs* because this week has been rough.

“I really don’t see how this is my fault,” Jemma insisted.

 

Fitz was quite put out about missing breakfast. He’d come out of the bathroom after his shower in an even grumpier mood than when he’d gone in. She made a mental note to find some snacks to keep in their room for future low blood glucose level emergencies. His complaints were starting to border on ridiculous.

 

“The alarm clock was on your side,” he grumbled, patting irritably at his hair and avoiding her eyes. The humidity was making his curls even more unruly than the day before, and she’d had to stuff her hands in her pockets to keep from helping him smooth it down.

 

Jemma felt a bit exposed, wearing shorts and a colorful tank top, but they were supposed to be on a tropical vacation after all. It wasn’t as though she was dressing for a day in the lab, and, goodness, she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t spent most of her days indoors mucking about with samples and specimens. Maybe Daisy was right, she should take more holidays. Ones that would preferably involve waking up in the arms of a gorgeous man who didn’t look quite so mortified to find her there. She just wished she could picture anyone besides Fitz who she might want to wake up with.  

 

Fitz was also wearing shorts, and a short-sleeved button up that fit him annoyingly well. He had no right to be all pasty and attractive when he could barely stand the sight of her. She did hope he would remember to at least pretend to like her once his mood improved. They were supposed to be a couple, after all.

 

“You have a phone with an alarm function,” Jemma pointed out.

 

“I always end up throwing it across the room,” Fitz grumbled, looking around the hotel lobby. It was much less crowded than it had been last night.

 

“How very not surprising.” Jemma rolled her eyes. “You’re so charming first thing in the morning.”

 

Fitz’s face was a bit flushed. She sincerely hoped he hadn’t caught a bug on the plane. No doubt he’d already passed it onto her, since they’d spend the night unintentionally curled up together. It wasn’t as though she’d meant to end up with her head cradled comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder and her back pressed against his nice, solid chest. Guilt swirled through her stomach. Here she was, reliving how nice his body felt next to hers, when he had a girlfriend at home who probably woke him up with breakfast in bed while wearing some ridiculously complicated lingerie.

 

“Can I help you?” the clerk behind the front desk asked.

 

“Breakfast,” Fitz said grimly. The clerk appeared perplexed. “Where?” Fitz added impatiently.

 

Jemma sighed. “Good morning, can you direct us to the nearest restaurant? We seem to have missed the continental breakfast.”

 

The clerk’s eyes darted between her and Fitz before settling on her and studiously ignoring Fitz’s glowering. “Ah yes, I’m afraid the buffet’s been cleared. The café should be open, it’s just through those doors and to your left.” The clerk gestured to one side of the lobby.

 

“A two-hour breakfast window,” Fitz grumbled under his breath. “As if that’s adequate.”

 

Smiling her thanks, Jemma grasped Fitz’s elbow and steered him towards the glass doors. Ignoring the shiver that ran up her arm at the contact, she slid her hand down his bicep soothingly, trying to remind him of the role they were playing. Luckily, he seemed to pick up on her (hopefully subtle) prompting, pushing the door open for her and settling one palm against the small of her back as she stepped out onto the patio.

 

She missed the warmth of his hand when he dropped it a moment later, and the tiny alarm bell that had been pinging in her head all morning went off again. She was not allowed to develop a crush on her partner during her first mission, even if her hormones were acting up. For one thing, it was rather clichéd, and for another, it was entirely unprofessional. She had never been unprofessional in her life.

 

The sun was dazzlingly bright outside. Shading her eyes, Jemma tried to get her heart rate under control and spotted a cluster of tables with colorful umbrellas just as Fitz headed in that direction.

 

In no time at all, they were settled at a table with piping hot tea and menus. Fitz looked happier, and Jemma settled back in her chair with her mug while he pursued his breakfast choices. She’d already asked for her usual—whole wheat toast—and decided to get a fruit plate as well. It would be a shame to miss indulging in fresh pineapple.

 

Peering over the rim of her cup, she took in the scenery. They were seated next to the beach, the sand mere inches from her toes and sloping gently down towards the water. Palm fronds rustled in the breeze overhead and she could hear the ebb and flow of the waves. The knot that seemed to have taken up a permanent residence between her shoulder blades in the last couple of years loosened slightly, and when Fitz glanced up at her, smiling widely, she found herself matching his grin.

 

“They’ve got banana pancakes,” he said cheerfully, setting his menu aside.

 

“Amazing.” Frankly, it sounded a little bizarre, but he wasn’t growling at her about oversleeping anymore, so she wasn’t going to argue. A waiter appeared long enough for Fitz to rattle off an order that would feed an army before leaving them in peace once more.

 

Fitz picked up his tea and gazed out over the water, and Jemma watched him take it all in. In the sunlight, his eyes matched the blue in the crest of the waves just before they crashed onto the beach.

 

His brow furrowed. “Do I have something…” Fitz lifted a hand towards his face

 

Jemma’s eyes went wide. Oh, good god, he’d caught her mooning over him like a smitten idiot. “No, sorry, I just…” She fumbled to pull her phone out of her pocket. “I forgot to tell my team…um, something. I’ll be right back.”

 

***

 

Fitz watched Jemma hurry away before rubbing a hand over his face and letting out a groan. He was making a complete ass out of himself this morning, all because he couldn’t stop thinking about Jemma’s pink lace knickers. If she’d just wasn’t so damn beautiful he wouldn’t have had to run off to wank in the shower like some adolescent berk. He’d come so hard his vision had gone fuzzy around the edges while thinking about her bum in those panties and he’d barely been able to look in her in the eye since. He was going to botch his very first mission.

 

His phone rang.

 

Fitz jumped slightly before pulling it out of his pocket. “What, Hunter?”

 

“Good morning to you, too, Casanova,” Hunter said cheerfully. “Thought you wouldn’t be wound so tight after last night.”

 

“Would you stop!” Fitz hissed. “We’re not…” He took a breath and glanced around, but Hunter was nowhere in sight. “You changed the hotel reservation, didn’t you?”

 

“Who, me?” Hunter sounded entirely too innocent. “Would I help out a mate in desperate need of a shag?”

 

“There was no shagging!”

 

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

 

“I’m not joking. We’re here on a…” Fitz stopped himself and lowered his voice, “to work, so stop making things difficult.”

 

“Fitz.” Hunter’s voice got serious. “You haven’t forgotten how, have you? I know it’s been a while, but…”

 

Fitz let out a strangled noise. “How to—”

 

“I’ll send you some helpful videos later, buddy, don’t worry.”

 

“Oh, sure, fantastic, then Jemma’s going to think I’m some great big pervert.”

 

“Trust me on this, whoever said business and pleasure don’t mix clearly wasn’t in our line of work. Keeps things from getting too complicated.” Fitz could practically hear Hunter’s smirk.

 

“Because that worked out so well for you,” Fitz snapped. He checked the doors of the hotel, but Jemma hadn’t reappeared yet. There was no need to panic, he was sure she’d be back any minute. She wouldn’t just up and leave because he’d been rude to her all morning, would she?

 

“I’m going to ignore that because you’re clearly in desperate straits. Look, here’s what you do. First, buy her a drink.”

 

“It’s not even noon, Hunter.”

 

“Make some excuse to go up to your room, and then get all cozy on your bed, maybe whisper some really big words in her ear, since apparently she’s into that, and then…”

 

There was a muffled thump and distant arguing before Mack’s voice came over the line, “Hey, everything going okay?”

 

“Fine,” Fitz said, relieved. He slumped back in his chair and picked up his tea. “Any news?”

 

“Still just rumors, but we’re playing it safe. Stark tech isn’t something anyone wants in the wrong hands.”

 

“We’ll keep our eyes open.”

 

“I know you will.” There was a short pause. “So, this science chick, she’s cute, huh?”

 

Fitz pressed end on the call.

 

***

 

“Jemma! Oh my god, how was your night?” Daisy sounded entirely too chipper on the other end of the phone line.

 

“Horrible,” Jemma groaned, plopping down onto a chaise near a potted palm.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Well, for one thing, I didn’t sleep well.”

 

“Because your new boyfriend kept you up all night?”

 

“He is not my boyfriend!” Jemma glanced around, but no one was paying her the slightest attention. “I don’t think he even likes me that much.”

 

“I doubt that,” Daisy said. “It looked like you guys were pretty cozy a minute ago.”

 

“Are you watching us?” Jemma hissed, flustered.

 

“Um, duh, that’s kind of my job? He’s pretty cute, in a nerd sort of way. Did he not make a move? Maybe he’s shy. You might have to spell it out for him. Try the red bikini.”

 

“I am not…!” Jemma took a deep breath. “Please tell me you’ve got some idea of where we should start looking for these people.”

 

“That’s a negative, sorry. The boss said he was going to check out a couple of leads but I think he mostly wanted to go hang on Stark’s yacht, and I haven’t seen May since I woke up this morning. This operation is mostly a precaution, we never confirmed the Russians were even planning anything.”

 

“But better safe than sorry, I know.” Jemma sighed. “It would just be helpful if we had something to do.”

 

“I mean, I can think of some things…”

 

“Not those kinds of things!”

 

Daisy laughed. “Jemma Simmons, get your mind out of the gutter!”

 

“I’m trying! Oh god, I’m an awful person.” Jemma dropped her head onto her hand.

 

“You are not an awful person.”

 

“I accidentally cuddled with him this morning!”

 

“You…what?” Daisy sounded entirely too amused.

 

“We had to share the bed!” Jemma whispered, cupping a hand around her mouth. “And when I woke up this morning we were…cuddling.”

 

“Oh my god, are you serious?”

 

“Does it sound like I’m joking?”

 

“You guys are going to have the absolute best ‘how we met’ story ever.”

 

“Daisy!”

 

“Right, totally just two professionals, sharing a bed.” Jemma could hear the glee in Daisy’s voice.

 

“You are being the exact opposite of helpful.”

 

“Okay, okay, but I want details about the whole bed-sharing thing later. The symposium kicks off tonight, so everyone’s probably sticking close to the hotel. Maybe hang at the pool, see if you can get some intel?”

 

“The pool,” Jemma said, relieved. “Great idea.”

 

“And wear the red bikini.”

 

Jemma hung up without dignifying that with a response.

 

She took a moment to make sure her hair hadn’t escaped her ponytail and straightened out her shirt. She really missed her blazers and trousers and sensible shoes. Taking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly. She could do this. She just had to get through breakfast without making a fool of herself and then they could spend the afternoon by the pool trying to figure out if the Russians were here or not.

 

But she was certainly not going to wear her red bikini.

 

***

 

Fitz’s shoulders slumped in relief when he saw Jemma come through the lobby doors. He waved as she hesitated for a moment, earning himself a smile as she headed in his direction. That made him feel a bit better. Hopefully, she’d forgiven him for being a total wanker.

 

“You have to try this,” he said, pushing a plate towards her as she sat down again.

 

“The pancakes?”

 

“They’re amazing.” He held up a forkful to show her and she leaned in, her eyes closing slightly. 

He watched, mesmerized, as she took the bite right off his fork, her lovely pink lips wrapping around the metal tines and damn it, he needed to stop staring at her like a besotted loon.

 

She made a happy noise and pulled back, smiling. He had to remind himself to breathe, inhaling shakily. Of course she would have thought he was offering her a bite, since her stupidly romantic boyfriend probably took her out to nice restaurants all the time, where they shared things like wine and dessert and generally acted like proper adults instead of forgetting to eat because they were in the middle of building some new device and ordering takeaway four hours later.

 

“It is good!” Jemma sounded surprised.

 

He recovered enough to take another bite. “Glad you like it.”

 

“What’s that one?” Jemma picked up her tea and pointed at another dish.

 

“Fried Spam.”

 

She laughed, and he was pretty sure he’d never heard anything more wonderful. “You’re kidding.”

 

“I never joke about food.”

 

She leaned forward as he speared a bite and a thrill ran through him as she scooted her chair a bit closer. They might just be pretending to date, but this all felt so normal it was hard to keep from settling his hand on her bare thigh as she took the Spam he was offering.

 

This time she looked a little more doubtful. “Hm.”

 

His knuckles grazed her knee. “Think it might be an acquired taste.” She laughed again, and he felt inordinately pleased with himself. If he could just manage to remember they were working together and nothing more, he was sure he and Jemma could be great friends and that would be enough.

 

It would have to be enough.

 

They headed back to their room a short while later, with Fitz feeling pleasantly full. Jemma had tucked her hand into his as they crossed the lobby and he hadn’t released it even though no one had joined them on the elevator. Jemma didn’t seem to notice.

 

He was just about to reluctantly let her go so he could find their room key when a door just down the hall from them opened and a familiar blonde stepped out.

 

Bobbi froze, apparently as surprised to see him as he was to see her. “Fitz?”

 

Fantastic. Hunter was going to absolutely lose his mind. He always did when Bobbi was around. Fitz hadn’t seen her since the last time she and Hunter had tried to patch things up post-divorce. It hadn’t worked out, and Hunter had moped for months afterwards.

 

Beside him, Fitz could feel Jemma tense up and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to let her know everything was fine. Probably. “Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Bobbi, fancy meeting you here.”

 

Bobbi glanced between him and Jemma, her eyes lingering on their joined hands. Jemma’s grip was so tight it almost hurt. “Yeah, fancy that. You’re here for…”

 

“The conference,” Fitz said.

 

“Me too. I’m with Stark Industries now. You’re still with…”

 

“Yeah,” Fitz replied quickly.

 

Bobbi relaxed a little, though he saw her glance at Jemma curiously. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

 

“Oh, this is Jemma. Jemma, Bobbi. We’re…old friends.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Jemma said. It didn’t sound like she meant it in the slightest. His fingers were starting to go a bit numb.

 

“Listen, Fitz.” Bobbi took a step towards him and glanced around the hallway. “It’s good to see you, but can we talk?”

 

“Ah, not right now,” Fitz said, trying to wiggle his fingers as Jemma cut off all his circulation. “Maybe later?”

 

Bobbi nodded once. “Sure. I’ll find you.” Bobbi headed towards the elevators without another word, and Jemma finally released his hand.

 

He ushered her into their room and closed the door. “Does your team know about Bobbi?”

 

Jemma shook her head, her arms crossed over her chest. “No. She used to work with you?”

 

“Something like that.” Fitz replied distractedly, already texting Mack.

 

**I’m not telling Hunter she’s here** , was Mack’s incredibly unhelpful reply.  **I’ll confirm her story with Stark.**

 

Fitz blew out a frustrated breath and raked his hand through his hair. He didn’t blame Mack for not wanted to step in the middle of a mess, but Bobbi was probably already on the lookout for Hunter and while she knew better than to blow anyone’s cover, the guy didn’t deserve to be blindsided. 

 

Fitz looked up and found Jemma watching him. “Is she going to be a problem?” Jemma asked.

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

Her eyes narrowed.

 

“No?” he amended.

 

“Good.” She went to the dresser and started tossing his things onto the bed. Fitz was fairly certain he wasn’t going to need all those shirts right now but Jemma seemed to be on a mission and the determined glint in her eye was kind of frightening. And a wee bit sexy.

 

“Can I help you find something?” he asked cautiously, watching her toss aside one of his favorite sweaters.

 

“Please tell me you brought a pair of swim trunks?”

 

“Of course I brought-” he started as she pulled them out of the drawer and stared at them for a moment before lifting her eyebrows. He crossed his arms defensively. “What?”

 

“We’re going to the pool to do some recon,” Jemma said, tossing his trunks on the bed and rummaging through her own drawers with a lot more care than she had his.

 

Fitz stared at the back of her head, trying to figure out why he felt like he should be apologizing when he couldn’t think of what he’d done wrong. Somehow, he’d already cocked everything up, and they weren’t even a real relationship.

 

“Jemma.”

 

She turned around, a wad of clothing in her hand. “We should get changed. I’ll take the bathroom?”

 

He nodded, and she disappeared. He heard the bathroom door slam shut. Sinking down to sit on the side of the bed, he flopped back and stared at the ceiling. This undercover mission stuff was even more complicated than he’d expected.

 

He missed his quiet lab. He missed tinkering with his electronics. And he missed the Jemma Simmons from breakfast, who’d seemed genuinely happy to be in his company. 

 

He propped himself up on his elbows and stared thoughtfully at the closed bathroom door.

 

He’d just have to figure out how to get that Jemma back.


	5. Pūnāwai ʻauʻau

In the bathroom, Jemma dumped the wad of clothes on the counter and dropped her head into her hands. 

She needed to get a grip. 

It’s not like she hadn’t known what kind of girl Fitz would be into, but seeing his ex had thrown her for a loop. And he must have dumped her because the woman—Bobbi—had glared at him for holding hands with Jemma and had wanted to speak to Fitz without her present. It all suggested Bobbi wasn’t over him at all. 

She was also probably as smart as she was beautiful, and if that was the girl Fitz had kicked to the curb, what did the current one look like? Was he dating some Victoria’s Secret model? Jemma moved her hands away from her face, feeling completely inadequate. 

Tan was not a word in her vocabulary. And her rear and hips said she spent more time in a lab than a gym. Of course, she worked out enough for optimum cardiac health, but…she felt like she was fourteen years old again with her hair in braids and her teeth in braces, the boys all saying she was nice but too smart to date. 

Squishing down the remembered schoolyard taunts, she sorted through the clothes she’d brought with her into the loo. There was a black one piece and the dreaded red bikini. She’d bought and packed it at Daisy’s urging, but hadn’t thought she’d actually wear it. There simply wasn’t a lot of fabric involved. Two tiny triangles to cover her breasts and the knickers would barely cover anything. It was a good thing she’d gotten a wax before coming. Though she had the suspicion Daisy had charged that and their mani/pedis to SHIELD as business expenses. 

At least she had a black sarong to add an extra layer to her bottom half. 

Jemma nodded once at her reflection. She was going to wear the bikini. Fitz could think whatever he wanted about her body compared to his perfect girlfriend. Who cared if she didn’t measure up? She could be proud of herself without his approval. 

She took off her clothes, folded them neatly, and placed them in a pile before wiggling into the bikini. She checked her hair and makeup, adding another coat of mascara. There. She looked like a woman going out poolside with her significant other. Knotting her sarong around her hips, she walked out of the bathroom. 

Fitz was standing beside the bed in his swim trunks—monkeys on surfboards—phone in hand and he was frowning at the screen. He glanced up at Jemma and fumbled the phone, though luckily it landed on the bed. 

“That’s y-your swimwear?” he asked, mouth hanging open.  

Jemma raised her chin. Who cared what he thought? Or if the bottoms made her arse look big. “Yes, but I wasn’t planning on doing much swimming. More basking.” 

“Uh, okay.” 

She marched past him and grabbed sunscreen off the dresser, squeezing some onto her hand and using it to slather her arms, front, and part of her back. Another dollop on her palm and she turned towards Fitz before bending over to get her legs. 

“I guess,” she said, “we can simply pick a central location and keep our ears open. Hopefully, over the next few days, both we and our teams can start to narrow down the number of suspects.”

“Uh-huh,” Fitz said. She looked up at him. He was still staring at her, and his phone remained where it’d fallen on the bed. 

“Everything okay?” she asked, straightening up and tugging at the front of her bikini, feeling absurdly self-conscious. What if it was her freckles? Maybe he had a thing against them? 

He wasn’t meeting her gaze and seemed to be looking slightly down at something.

“Fitz?” she tried again. 

His head snapped up, and a flush spread over his face. “Er, what?”

What was wrong with him? She carried the sunscreen over to the bed and grabbed a canvas tote to put it in. “I have numerous journals Daisy sent with us for cover, all current research on cancer and biotech.”

“Okay.” Fitz was still just standing there. 

“Did you put sunscreen on?” she asked. Fitz was very light skinned. 

“Er…no?”

“Ugh, Fitz. Honestly. We’re going to blow our cover if you get burned. We’re supposed to be experts on cancer. Not being adequately protected from UVA and UVB rays would be a dead giveaway.”

“Oh.” 

“Did you even bring any?” 

He looked sheepish. “I-I don’t think so?” 

At least it was more than one word. With a sigh, Jemma took her sunscreen back out. “Allow me.” She moved around the bed and behind Fitz. “It’s going to be a bit cold,” she warned as she dumped a bunch of the cream into her hand before putting the bottle on the bed. She spread the sunscreen on both hands and put her palms on Fitz’s shoulders. 

He jumped. 

“Told you it was going to be cold,” she said.

“Yeah. Cold.” 

She glided her hands over his back. It was a rather nice one that was pleasing to touch. As she worked her way lower, Fitz made a rumbling noise and arched his back towards her. He must be enjoying having someone rub his muscles, and he was terribly tense. Did his girlfriend not rub his back? 

Jemma got down to right above the waistband of his swim trunks. It was impossible not to notice he had a very…squeezable rear. 

Her mind ran away with her, imagining him between her spread legs, her hands gripping his ass tightly as he pounded into her. 

Her knees did a trembling thing that was entirely new before she was able to rein in her imagination. 

She quickly grabbed the lotion bottle as heat bloomed in her belly. “Back’s done, now can you get mine? I think I covered most of it, but I’d like to be sure.” She handed him the bottle and turned away, hoping not looking at him would douse the fire. 

Then his hands landed on her shoulders. 

Bad idea. This had been a very bad idea. Nothing was getting doused at all. Fitz’s hands were warm and surprisingly gentle as they ran over her back and down her sides, pausing on the swell of her hips briefly before disappearing. She swallowed down a sound of protest, but he was only getting more lotion. With one hand he held her ponytail out of the way while he massaged the nape of her neck.  His movements were slow, then slower, and finally stopped. His hand was heavy on the back of her neck, and the only sound in the room was their breathing. 

After long seconds, Jemma turned to face Fitz. He was awfully close. “Let me get your face,” she whispered, taking the bottle and smoothing a little on her fingers. He nodded and closed his eyes, and she carefully rubbed the lotion over his cheeks and forehead, his chin and ears. She glided her hands down his neck, but when she reached his chest, he started, and his eyes opened. 

“I got it from here, thank you,” he said, stepping back. 

She snatched her hands back, feeling like she’d just had ice water dumped on her. She shook her head as she grabbed her bag, adding several bottles of water, along with her phone and Fitz’s from the bed. 

Fitz was her mission partner, and she was here doing serious work. Flights of fancy were going to get her nowhere. It was just a teensy bit hard to remember that as they left the room, both wearing flip-flops and sunglasses with towels slung over their shoulders. 

****

Fitz was wondering what he’d done to deserve this kind of torment as he watched Jemma’s hips sway while they walked towards the pool. 

He was sharing a room and a bed with a gorgeous woman who was a scientific genius and who he wasn’t supposed to touch. She was even someone else’s girlfriend and Fitz was still desperately coveting her. Especially in the devil-red bikini she was wearing. He’d been strategizing how to make her feel comfortable around him again, because he wanted her smiles back, and he’d had several brilliant ideas that he’d completely forgotten the moment she’d walked out of the bathroom. 

His brain had turned to goo and had yet to reform. 

Jemma was stunning. He’d wanted to get down on his knees and beg to map out her freckles with his tongue. 

And then she’d somehow decided she needed to rub her hands all over him. And that he needed to do the same to her. Sunlight was amazing, precious, lovely, because it required him to touch her. 

“Wow,” Jemma breathed as she halted. He nearly ran into her and almost repeated the same thing, because he was staring at her rear, but then realized they’d reached the hotel’s pool. 

It was spectacular. Palm trees were planted in a perfusion around it and a few were even on columns rising from the pristine looking water. There were lounge chairs grouped around it, some under canopies, and the few guests already there were being tended to by waiters. The only problem was that there was a man-made waterfall with a grotto underneath it. The falling water would make it difficult to hear any conversations taking place in it. 

Fitz nudged her. “That’s going to be a problem,” he said, pointing out the waterfall. Jemma frowned.

“We can take the chairs under a cabana by it, and keep our eyes peeled.” 

“And move if we need to?” he asked. 

“And move if we need to.” She threaded her way among the lounge chairs to one of the tents near the waterfall, and spread out her towel. He did the same, settling down and accepting the journal she offered him. 

One of the waiters came over and as tempting as it was to get something tropical to drink, he opted for water. Jemma smiled approvingly and asked for the same. 

Fitz did his best to focus on the words on the page and the conversations around him as the morning progressed, but Jemma was very distracting. How her lips went around the straw and her cheeks hallowed when she sipped her drink. How she raised an arm over her head to grab the back of her chair. 

The fact that she was right there beside him. 

Around noon she sat up and bent over to fuss with her flip-flop, treating him to an eyeful of her perfectly shaped, incredibly soft looking, exquisite cleavage. 

Fitz swallowed and blankly glanced back at the journal in his hand.  _ Frog dissection. Dead frogs. Decaying dead frogs. _ He’d started to come up with a whole litany of things to keep his prick in check. He was in swim trunks, he wasn’t going to be able to hide it if he got a hard-on. 

In desperation, he focused solely on the article in front of him. Which turned out to be bloody interesting. He read through to the end, flipped back, read it again, and then sat up. 

“Jemma! Jemma, look at this!” He eagerly held the journal out to her. “It’s about using a cybernetic eye in place of a real one when it’s been lost due to trauma or a tumor. The authors are having problems with some of the mechanical functions and connecting to the optic nerve, but I think I have a solution to at least the first part of that.” 

Jemma took the journal and as she read he confiscated a pen out of her tote and began sketching ideas on napkins. When she was done reading, she sat up and sorted through his designs. 

“Fitz, this is amazing,” she said. “But there’s still the problem with the nerve, but I think I might be able to…” She took the pen from him and made some notations in the article’s margins and on his drawings. “What about a caudal view?” she asked, passing the pen back to him. He nodded and started sketching while Jemma came to sit next to him, leaning over his arm and making suggestions. 

It wasn’t until three napkins later that he figured out her breasts were actually brushing against his arm, but by then they were so deep into conversation that the touching seemed natural. He was nearly entirely focused on his design, though part of his brain catalogued the feel of their roundness for later. 

Mostly he was ecstatic that here was the Jemma from breakfast. She was smiling, and their arguing about neuron attachments and microcircuitry was the productive kind. It was amazing, talking to someone who entirely got what he was saying. No, not only did she understand him, she pushed him. To think harder, look at things differently, to be more. 

He was pretty sure he was doing the same for her. Together, they made quite a team. 

Glancing over at her as she laughed about something to do with the circulation of the orbital, he felt his heart flail in his chest. Oh no. He couldn’t be. Not just like that. 

Jemma was brilliant, pretty, she made him laugh, and was his equal. But she wasn’t his girl. Wasn’t going to be his. 

He put a hand on his forehead. 

“Fitz? Do you have a headache? Have you been drinking enough water?” Jemma’s face was concerned as she picked up his water glass and held it so he could take a drink. 

“Thank you,” he croaked, hoping she would never guess the real reason he found himself so off-kilter. 

“Hey,” a man’s voice said from the far side of the grotto. “Did any of you have someone quiz you about that Stark Industries device yet?”

Fitz and Jemma shared a look. 

There was a response that was hard to hear over the rushing water. 

“We need to get closer,” he said. 

Jemma quickly dumped their stuff in her tote, except for the napkins which she carefully placed in the journal before closing it and setting it on top. 

Standing, they edged towards the grotto. 

“Yeah, this guy was full of question about it. Annoyed the hell out of me,” the same loud voice said. 

There was another mumbled reply. 

“As if I’d know Tony Stark’s business,” the first voice said again. “Makes you wonder about that break in last night though. I heard the room was a mess, completely ransacked, and that the hotel was compensating the guests.”

There was a short bark of laughter. “In that case, the thieves can hit my room next.”

Fitz put a hand on Jemma’s arm and they started to creep towards the voices. It was dark and cool in the area behind the waterfall and thankfully deserted at the moment. 

“Shall we go have a late lunch?” another voice asked, this one a woman. 

“Good idea,” first voice said. “Lunch and maybe a nap before the conference’s kick off tonight.” 

“Excellent,” the woman replied. “Do point out whoever was badgering you if you see them tonight at registration so I know who to avoid.”

****

Jemma had all her senses on high alert as her and Fitz tiptoed towards the group of people that were talking. She could see out the other side of the grotto now, though the group of symposium attendees were still mostly turned away or wearing large, sun-blocking hats. 

Squinting, Jemma frowned. Several chairs down from the group she could see May sitting on a lounge chair, her legs extended, chatting with a man who was excitedly talking about something and using his hands for emphasis. The man seemed familiar to Jemma, with his brown skin, honest face, and wide smile. It was the charming grin that clued Jemma in. It was Dr. Andrew Garner of Culver University. He’d been a last minute addition to the conference when one of the keynote speakers had abruptly canceled. Dr. Garner’s picture had been in an email the conference runners had sent out explaining the change.   

But why was May talking to him? 

“Uh, Jemma,” Fitz said, his hand tightening on her arm. “They’re coming this way.” 

Her attention focused back on the group that she and Fitz had been eavesdropping on. Oh no. It was going to look like she and Fitz had been listening in. 

Her eyes darted quickly left and right, but there wasn’t any cover. “Do something,” she hissed. 

Fitz looked as panicked as she felt, but then he pursed his lips and propelled her against the wall. One of his hands settled on her hip as his other arm wrapped around her while his face pressed against her neck. 

Oh god. 

The moan she let out wasn’t even faked as Fitz gave her neck open-mouthed, lingering kisses. Her head thunked back against the wall and her hands clutched at his shoulders. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her nipples hardening into needy points as she undulated against him. 

“Get a room!” She heard someone say as the group walked past, but she couldn’t think, just feel. The heat of his hands on her, the way her heart pounded in her chest.Her body was alive. Fitz had fully woken her mind up earlier, and Jemma could scarcely believe how intelligent he was. She’d never had someone keep pace with her before and argue back, it’d been so much fun. Now her brain was sidelined as every nerve ending she had lit up with desire. 

She was whimpering and one of her hands was in his hair and, oh crap…the group of symposium goers wasn’t even in the grotto anymore. Had she been supposed to look at their faces? 

“Fitz?” she said, pushing at his shoulders. 

He groaned something and his teeth nipped at her earlobe. 

She pushed harder. 

“Huh?” he said, looking up at her. His pupils were dilated and he looked dazed. 

“Um, the people left. We’re alone.”

Fitz blinked a few times, then his awareness snapped back into place and he let go of her like she was on fire, turning and picking up her tote in the same motion and holding it in front of him. 

“It sounds like,” she said woozily and had to pause and lick her dry lips. “It sounds like someone’s poking around. We should report in, tell our teams and maybe they can ramp up surveillance tonight?” 

“Sure,” Fitz said, sounding grouchy. Oh no, was he upset? Probably yes, having to almost make out with her so they didn’t blow their cover when he had a girlfriend. He must have been thinking about her the entire time and was upset that Jemma wasn’t the right girl. 

She deflated with a sigh and reached for her bag. “I can carry that.” 

“No!” Fitz said, taking a step back. “Um, I mean, I’ve got it.” He strode stiffly towards the hotel while Jemma trailed behind him, wishing she’d thought of some other way to keep them from blowing their cover because obviously Fitz wasn’t happy. 

He was muttering to himself and Jemma was fairly perplexed as to what, since the only words she made out were, “Dead Frog.” 


	6. Pahu

“Do you want to…” Jemma tried, for what felt like the millionth time since they’d left the pool, to engage Fitz in conversation, but he just shook his head as he unlocked the door to their room and then immediately commandeered the bathroom.

 

She sighed in frustration and kicked off her flip-flops, looking around for her hairbrush. Which of course was in the bathroom with Fitz. She started towards the door, only to hear the shower start up.

 

He was avoiding her.

 

It had all been going so well, too. They’d been working together on the cybernetic eye (she’d have to remember to bring that up to Agent Coulson later, he was always interested in intriguing new devices) and the discussion had just been so…fun. Even at the Academy she hadn’t found many like-minded people to talk to, let alone anyone willing to try and keep up with her. But Fitz’s enthusiasm for discovery so complimented her own, it felt like she wasn’t holding a part of herself back for the very first time. There were so many things she wanted to discuss, so many half-formed ideas she wanted to share.

 

And then she’d ruined it by practically mauling him when he’d been trying to maintain their cover, forgetting herself completely just because he’d…her fingertips grazed the spot on her neck that he’d been so focused on kissing, and her eyes went wide.

 

Oh dear.

 

Whipping around, she lifted her chin to examine her neck in the mirror over the dresser. Faint red marks led from her collarbone to her ear, though they looked they would fade quickly. Thank god. A strand of wistfulness wound through her, but she pushed it away. She obviously wasn’t Fitz’s type. She needed to get ahold of herself and stop mooning over someone who dated gorgeous, willowy blondes smart enough to work for Tony Stark.

 

Jemma dropped her hand and scowled at the mirror, then rummaged through the dresser for a pair of shorts and a tee to pull on over her swimsuit. She put her flip-flops back on and grabbed her room key before moving back towards the bathroom door, knocking hesitantly.

 

“Fitz?”

 

There was a squeaking noise like he might have slipped in the tub and a muffled oath she couldn’t quite make out. Wincing, she bit her lip and waited.

 

“Yeah?” he finally responded, his voice strained. 

 

“Um, I’m going out, I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

“Great.”

 

Jemma waited for a beat, but apparently he wasn’t going to ask any questions. Picking up her phone, she headed for the door, already texting Daisy,  **Room #?** _. _

 

 **325 why?** Daisy answered.

 

Jemma didn’t bother to respond, heading for the elevator and her friend. She had to tell Daisy about what she and Fitz had overheard earlier, and she needed a sympathetic ear.

 

A minute later, Daisy opened her hotel room door and lifted her eyebrows. “Wow, um, hey, Jemma. You know you’re not really supposed to hang out with the team watching you when you’re undercover, right?”

 

Jemma rolled her eyes and entered the hotel room, shutting it firmly behind her. “Of course I do, it’s on page 43 of the handbook, section 9.2. However, it also states that situations are fluid and agents should use their best judgment if something changes.”

 

Daisy’s room had two beds, of which she was quite envious, an open box of half-eaten pizza, and an assortment of binoculars and cameras with massive lenses by the window. It overlooked the patio she and Fitz had breakfasted on and Jemma sank down to sit on the bed, wishing she could go back to that moment, or any moment really, when she and Fitz had been getting along so well and before he’d been forced to almost kiss her.

 

“Okay.” Daisy curled up in the chair opposite her and picked up a piece of pizza. “So, what changed?”

 

Jemma plucked at the bedspread nervously. “Um, well, we—Fitz and I, I mean—overheard something interesting while we were out by the pool.”

 

“Oooh, the pool, I saw.” Daisy sighed dramatically and stared out the window at the blue sky. “I can’t believe I’m stuck doing indoor surveillance from this dumpy room in  _ Hawaii _ . Coulson said the Bus is off limits unless there’s an emergency, because it’s ‘too conspicuous’.” Daisy made air quotes with her fingers. “He’s got it parked in some private hanger. This so isn’t fair.”

 

“Isn’t May supposed to be with you?” Jemma looked around. Only one of the beds looked like it’d been slept in. “I saw her down there.”

 

“Yeah, with that guy.”

 

“He’s one of the speakers. Maybe she’s interrogating him?”

 

Daisy snorted. “Chilling by the pool is definitely not an interrogation technique I’ve ever learned, and she didn’t come back to the room last night, so I’m guessing no.”

 

“Really?” Jemma pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Who is he, do you think?”

 

“There’s totally a story there, but you’re avoiding the question. What changed?” Daisy perked up. “Oh my god, did he finally make a move on you? I told you that bikini looked amazing! What happened? Oh no, it wasn’t good, was it, that’s why you’re here? It’s…” She glanced at her watch. “Wow, okay, it’s only been like 5 minutes since you left the pool, that’s not good at all. He really needs to work on his foreplay.”

 

“Daisy!” Jemma covered her face with her hands. “No!”

 

“No, it’s fine, we can fix this. There are probably books and if he’s anything like you, he loves books.”

 

“I’m sure he…there was none of that, alright? It’s me, I’m the problem.” Jemma’s shoulders sagged and she dropped her hands to her lap. She hated not excelling at something, but there just was no escaping the fact that she wasn’t the kind of girl who interested Fitz.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not his type.”

 

Daisy looked perplexed. “Um, Jemma, I know I was watching from way up here, but if your conversation with him was anything to go by, you’re exactly his type. I’ve seriously never seen anyone so excited about…whatever you two were talking about.”

 

Jemma waved a hand impatiently. “Improvements on a cybernetic eye, but that’s not what I mean.” She saw Daisy wrinkle her nose and mouth ‘cybernetic eye’ but plowed on before she lost her nerve. “We kissed. Almost kissed. There was some…brief almost kissing.”

 

Daisy gasped and dropped her unfinished pizza slice into the open box. “You kissed!” She clasped her hands together.

 

“Not on purpose!”

 

Daisy leaned back in her chair. “Oh.” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute. What’s up with your neck?”

 

Jemma slapped her hand over the side of her neck Fitz had nibbled on and felt her face heat up. 

 

“It was for the mission!” she hissed.

 

“Trying to give you a hickey was for the mission?”

 

“We had to do something! And I’m sure he hated it, because his girlfriend’s a thousand times prettier than I am and probably has three PhDs and now he can’t even look at me!”

 

“Whoa, Jemma.” Daisy held out her hands placatingly. “I really don’t think…”

 

“I met his ex-girlfriend. She’s staying here.”

 

Daisy’s jaw dropped. “At the hotel?”

 

Jemma nodded. “And she’s…she’s beautiful and tall and blonde with absurdly long giraffe legs and just…” Jemma flopped back on the bed. “Obviously still hung up on him.” She let out a long, gusty sigh. “I’m being ridiculous. He is not the only man in the world I’ve ever found attractive.”

 

“Wait, back up, his ex is here? That can’t be good, what if she blows your cover?”

 

“Fitz said she wouldn’t be a problem.” Jemma said glumly. “Apparently, she’s working for Stark.”

 

“Damn,” Daisy muttered. “Guess we can’t take her out, then. And what guy have you ever found attractive? You turn down everyone who asks you out.”

 

“I’m very selective!”

 

“Name one guy.”

 

“…Thor.”

 

“He doesn’t count, and you know it. That’s universal hotness.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, we’re here on a strictly professional mission and I’ll probably never see Fitz again anyway.”

 

Daisy’s expression turned sympathetic. “Jemma, I’m sure if…”

 

Jemma sat up, determined to push past this nonsense she was feeling. It didn’t matter if Fitz thought she wasn’t attractive, because they weren’t actually a couple and she was here to work. 

 

Yes, it was a very nice change of pace to talk with someone who didn’t stare blankly at her after a couple of sentences. And yes, he had beautiful eyes and a kind smile and the combination of his soft lips and the rasp of his scruff against her neck had actually made her knees weak, which she’d always thought was just a ridiculous metaphor, but he also had a girlfriend and Jemma needed to face reality.

 

“We overheard some people talking,” she interrupted before Daisy could continue trying to reassure her. “Apparently, one of the rooms was broken into last night, and someone’s been asking quite a lot of questions about Stark’s new device.”

 

Daisy leaned forward, suddenly all business. “Who?”

 

“We didn’t catch that.”

 

Jemma watched Daisy type a message into her phone. “Was anything taken?”

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

Daisy pursed her lips as her phone chimed with an incoming message. “Okay, Coulson says keep doing what you’re doing, it could be Russians, or it might just be some run of the mill burglars.”

 

“I really wish people would stop trying to make every new invention into a weapon. The applications of Stark’s machine could really be quite remarkable, once they work out the kinks. Imagine an amputee being able to communicate with their new limbs through a simple subcutaneous implant?”

 

“Yeah, well, if everyone was a good guy we’d be out of a job.” Daisy eyed her shrewdly. “Speaking of guys…”

 

***

 

Fitz pounded on the door, glancing up and down the hall before it finally opened.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hunter asked, stepping aside and letting Fitz in.

 

“I need you to shoot me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nowhere vital! Just…a nice graze maybe, on the leg. Not in the arm, it’d be too difficult to work.”

 

Hunter lifted an eyebrow.

 

Fitz sank down on the end of an unmade bed and dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. She’s trying to kill me.”

 

“Ah.” Fitz didn’t have to look up to know Hunter was sporting an incredibly annoying grin. “The lovely lady in red. She does fill out a bikini quite nicely.”

 

Fitz lifted his head and glared. “This is all your fault.”

 

“You can thank me in your wedding toast.”

 

“How am I supposed to work with her when she makes me forget basic maths?”

 

“Bikini ties aren’t that complicated, mate.”

 

“You are absolutely no help.” Fitz frowned and glanced around the messy room. “Where’s Mack?”

 

“Off to see a man on a yacht. Said he had to check something out before Stark heads back to the mainland and leaves the grunt work to us.”

 

Fitz winced and scrubbed a hand through his damp hair. “Right, about that…”

 

“What’s the problem with this girl, anyway? You two looked cozy enough down by the pool earlier.” Hunter sprawled out on the second bed, this one neatly made up, and turned on the television.

 

“Her name’s Jemma,” Fitz said. “And there’s nothing wrong with her, that is the problem!” He stood up and started pacing nervously. “She’s brilliant. I’ve never met anyone like her. Did you know she figured out how to adjust an electronic signal to communicate with the optic nerve earlier? Strictly theoretical, of course, we’d have to test it, but…”

 

Hunter snorted. “Sounds like you were made for each other.”

 

“She has to have a boyfriend.”

 

“Oh, right, I forgot, your mythical Rambo.”

 

“It’s a statistical probability! She’s beautiful and intelligent and has probably met actual superheroes.” Fitz sighed glumly. “How could I possibly compete with that?”

 

Hunter rolled his eyes. “You’re overthinking this. I’m telling you, just go for it. Offer to scrub her back in the shower.”

 

“I can’t…” It took a moment for Fitz to shake the mental image of a naked Jemma in the shower out of his head. Thank god she hadn’t gone in the pool earlier. Just imagining the water sluicing between her lovely breasts was shorting out his brain. Again. “I’m not going to do that, okay?”

 

“What, live a little?”

 

“Says the man who can’t visit his local for a pint without getting slapped.”

 

“That was one time! Well, twice, but one of those was Bob and you know she’d slap me anywhere so that doesn’t count.”

 

Fitz winced. “Uh, speaking of Bobbi…”

 

Hunter’s entire body tensed as he sat up. “What about her?”

 

Fitz rubbed the back of his neck and hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. “She’s here.”

 

“Here?” Hunter repeated. “In this hotel.”

 

“Said she’s working for Stark.”

 

“My little mercenary,” Hunter muttered under his breath. He was up now, strapping on his ankle holster and shoving a knife into his boot. “What’d she say, did she ask about me?”

 

“She didn’t say much.” Fitz shrugged. “Jemma was there.”

 

Hunter slid another knife into his pocket before opening a nightstand drawer. “I’ll go see what she’s up to, but in the meantime…”

 

Fitz started to roll his eyes just as Hunter threw a small box in his direction. Fitz caught it reflexively, swallowing a startled yelp. “What-” His eyes widened.

 

“I sincerely hope you remember what to do with those.” Hunter ushered him out the door of the room, shutting it behind them. “But if not, I bet your brilliant new girlfriend can help you out.”

 

Giving him an entirely unsettling wink, Hunter took off down the hall towards the elevator, leaving Fitz staring in dismay at the full box of condoms in his hand.


	7. Manaʻo

Fitz grumbled insults at Hunter, even if the idiot couldn’t hear him, doing his best to hide the fact he was carrying a box of condoms as he made his way back to his hotel room. 

This spy nonsense was getting out of hand. Fitz fervently wished he was back in his lab in London, working on something complicated and distracting. He turned over several possibilities, including the watch with a laser that he was determined to make work. There wasn’t a lot of practical applications for that one, but it would be cool. 

The problem was that his brain, while conjuring up the familiar space of his lab along with a mock-up of the watch, put Jemma there, working at something at one of the other stations with her hair tied back and wearing a lab coat. 

Bloody hell, even that was hot. His fingers curled tighter around the condom box. Which would never be opened. Jemma was taken, and Fitz had to quit imagining her filling up his life. After these two weeks, she’d go running to back to the arms of her boyfriend or husband—

Fitz stopped still in the middle of the hallway, the door to his room in sight. 

She could be married. The thought hadn’t occurred to Fitz before, because she wasn’t wearing a ring, but of course she wouldn’t be since she was undercover. 

Married. 

It felt for a moment like he’d fallen off a cliff and couldn’t breathe. His heart hurt at the idea of her standing in a white dress with some—tall, six-pack-having—bloke and vowing to love and cherish him for all time. The ache in his chest sharpened. He vastly preferred thinking of her in sensible shoes and goggles, hunched over a lab bench.  

God, married…that’d be…that’d be… _ terrible _ . 

“Get it together, Fitz,” he muttered. “She’s not here to put up with you being a ninny.” 

Somehow, he managed to start walking again and used his card to let himself into the room, breathing a sigh of relief that it was empty. Though the shower was running so Jemma was back as well. Fitz opened the drawer of the nightstand beside his side of the bed and stuffed the condoms as far back as he could and put the Gideon Bible on top of them for good measure. 

Feeling safer, Fitz found the article and napkins from earlier and laid them out on the same table near the door along with an empty pad of graph paper that he started transcribing their hastily done notes and drawings on in higher detail. 

He hadn’t gotten more than a few lines drawn when he realized he was going to need a pen with a finer nib on it. He walked over to the dresser and started searching through one of his bags when there was the buzz of a cell phone getting a text message. It wasn’t his, which was currently holding down the corners of several napkins, but he couldn’t help glancing at the screen of Jemma’s phone anyway. 

His first thought was: how did she walk around knowing her battery was only at 18 percent? He picked up the phone and went to her side of the bed to plug it into its charger. As he did, the screen lit up again and this time he not quite on purpose got an eyeful of the picture she had set as her lock screen. 

Fitz sat down hard on the edge of the bed. 

It was Jemma smiling and arm in arm with some wanker who had to be her significant other. The guy was obviously the specialist type. He was handsome with arms that made him look like he could crush skulls without even trying.But  Fitz had known Jemma long enough now to believe she wouldn’t put up with just a jock. This guy probably had a doctorate in something biology related and didn’t get queasy during dissections. 

The text message covered up the middle of the photo. It was from ‘DJ’ and read:  **You doing alright Jems? You know I love you.**

Fitz felt the entire world go sideways. 

It’d been different before he’d seen the unequivocal evidence of Jemma being with someone. This DJ, who loved her. Because how could he not? She was very loveable.  

The tiny corner of his mind that’d been holding on the hope that Jemma would be seduced by Fitz’s intellect and want to run away with him withered. 

Fitz sat the phone down and mechanically found the pen he’d been looking for and returned to working on consolidating their ideas. 

He was rather lost as to what to do, but he supposed being Jemma’s friend was better than being nothing to her at all. Maybe when this was over, she’d want to keep in contact. In a colleagues kind of way. Share ideas, talk through research project designs. Maybe even collaborate on a few things. 

Fitz started feeling a little better, imagining their future as friends. Good friends. Talk everyday friends. 

And then she’d go through a messy divorce, and he’d fly to America because she’d need a shoulder to cry on. 

As well as a lap to sit in. 

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. 

****

Jemma exited the bathroom, dressed in a pink, scoop-neck sundress with a criss-cross pattern to the straps in the back. It wasn’t her usual choice of clothing, but she was playing Hawaiian tourist, and the dress with its slightly twirly skirt had seemed appropriate. 

It was also fun. 

Fitz was scowling at a pad of paper he was holding and barely looked up at her as she approached. 

He was formalizing the notes they’d made on the cybernetic eye design. It made her smile. Though it’d be better if he looked less like a grump while he did it. Jemma, however, was being to suspect that grump was his default setting. 

“Hey,” she said, pulling the other chair at the table around to where she’d be able to sit beside him. 

Fitz grunted, but it was mostly a welcoming grunt. 

She watched him meticulously draw out a circuit diagram. As it neared completion, she stood, put on the room’s electric tea kettle and returned with a legal pad and a pen. Rearranging things slightly, she set the article in front of her and began to reread, making notes on points she wanted to research further. 

They worked in comfortable silence, Jemma going to make them tea when the kettle whistled. She got a genuine smile from Fitz, and a muttered thanks when she set a mug in an empty space on the table. 

When dinner time rolled around, it was tempting to order room service, but they had a job to do. 

In the hallway, Fitz took her hand in his like it was the natural thing to do, but Jemma had to repress the shiver that ran through her at the feeling of his warm palm pressed to hers. 

In the resort’s formal dining room, they gave their names to an attendant who checked them off in a computer, handed them name badges, and directed them to their table. Apparently, their respective agencies had forked over money for the two of them to attend the opening night dinner.

They were seated with a couple from Seattle. George was a surgeon and his husband, Brad, worked for some video game company Jemma had never heard of but that Fitz had. George was older, Asian, and quick to smile while Brad was the stereotype of a tech-guy, with unruly hair and horn-rimmed glasses.

Fitz started peppering Brad with questions about his latest game and the two of them were chatting away like old friends in no time. Though his attention was on Brad, Fitz kept his arm around her shoulders and distracted her by idly circling his fingers on the bare skin of her upper arm.

George smiled lopsidedly at Jemma. “He always wants an audience.”

“Boys and their toys,” she said with an eyeroll. She patted Fitz’s leg under the table to soften the blow, not that he’d seemed to hear her.

George snorted. “Tell me about it. Our game room—” he made air quotes “—is stuffed to the gills. I guess it’s good I have someone to spend my money, heaven knows I usually don’t have the time.”

“I get that.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “It must be nice to get away, even if it’s only to a conference.”

George nodded and sighed. “I joke I’m wedded to the hospital, not him.”

“I can only imagine.” Jemma turned towards Fitz, and he gave her a squeeze with his arm. She returned her attention to George. “I think we’re being ignored.”

He made a face and nodded.

“So what kinds of non-conference activities are you planning on enjoying?” That seemed like a safe concept for chit-chat. It was tempting to pick George’s brain about his work, but she thought Fitz might be slightly on the squeamish side and if he didn’t eat his dinner she’d hear about for the entire night.

George leaned back in his chair. “There’s so many. Though I should say I’m looking forward to quite a few of the lectures and seminars as well.” He dropped his voice. “Because I have to track that for work.” He winked, and Jemma laughed. He continued in a normal tone, “But there’s so much to do here. There’s that volcanic vent that’s been active, snorkeling, the beach, all the restaurants, more beach, hiking, did I mention the beach?”

“You might have,” she said with a laugh.

“Seattle’s rainy, it’s nice to see the sun.”

“I heartily agree.” She leaned closer to George. “Though I have my work cut out for me not letting Fitz turn into a lobster.”

He chuckled. “One hobby Brad and I share is scuba diving, though Brad is much more into it than me. In Washington the water is always freezing, often you have to wear a drysuit and that’s not much fun. Or comfortable. But here, wetsuit all the way!”

“Do you dive often?”

They were interrupted as a waiter with a flat expression served their appetizers. He lingered for a moment behind George.   

“Enough to be good at it,” George said. “But not nearly as good as Brad, he’s like a fish. He can dive a lot deeper than I can as well.”

Jemma frowned as the waiter’s eyes darted between George and Brad, but then he left and Jemma figured he was probably calculating his odds of getting a tip.

A man walked to the microphone set up on a small stage and tapped it to make sure it was on. Over the rest of the dinner they had to endure one long-winded speech after the other, except for Dr. Garner who earned some laughs by saying he’d been added at the last minute and therefore hadn’t had time to come up with a novel way to bore everyone. Jemma watched him intently. His last-minute addition seemed terribly convenient, not to mention May had singled him out as well, so she must also be concerned. Dr. Garner definitely deserved close scrutiny.

The speeches concluded as dessert was served.

Fitz dug into his, a rich tiramisu, with abandon. She declined to have anything, full from dinner.

“What do you think of the Stark Industries device?” she asked George.

He shrugged. “It could potentially help my patients, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Fitz and I were discussing how it might work with a cybernetic eye.”

Fitz made a face and she patted his shoulder.

“That’s a great goal, restoring someone’s sight,” George said. “I just make holes in people and remove what shouldn’t be inside them.”

Fitz paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. Jemma used the opportunity to sneak in and steal a bite.

“Hey,” Fitz grumbled. “I thought you didn’t want any.” He stuffed the bite on his fork in his mouth and quickly scooped up some more.

“I changed my mind.” She daintily ate her stolen bite, letting out a moan once it was in her mouth. “Oh, wow, that is amazing.”

Fitz looked at his fork, then at her, then back his fork, and finally he held out the bite out to her and she nibbled at it while smiling at him.

His brows were pulled together, and he was really selling their undercover personas with how he was looking at her. Her face flushed, and she had to turn away, only to find George with his arm around Brad and both men beaming at them.

When the dinner was over there was another interminable hour of wandering around and making small talk with other conference attendees, but she and Fitz didn’t meet anyone even remotely suspicious.  

Her cheeks hurt from having to fake smile for so long by the time they returned to their room. Fitz collapsed on the bed with a groan. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that bored in my entire life.”

“It really wasn’t very intellectually stimulating,” Jemma said, taking her nightgown out from the drawer where she’d placed it neatly folded into that morning. “And I think this is only such a popular conference because it’s in Hawaii.”

“Eh,” Fitz sat up and shrugged. “I for one am glad we’re in a tropical resort with a pool and ocean breezes.”

Jemma laughed. “It could be worse.”

She chose new panties and turned to find Fitz on all fours, looking under the bed. 

She stared at his rear for a moment. Squeezable. “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked. 

“Looking for my ruddy pajamas. I think I dropped them on the floor this morning and they’ve disappeared.”

“Oh,” she snorted. “They’re in your top drawer. I picked them up and folded them.” 

Fitz stood up, a faint pink flush washing over his cheeks. “Er, thanks.”

“No problem, but tomorrow try and remember to do it yourself.” 

He nodded, and she went into the bathroom to change, bringing her phone with her. After her earlier shower, there’d been a text from Daisy wanting to know if she was okay. Jemma had texted her back in the affirmative, along with an eyeroll at Daisy for even asking. Of course, Jemma was fine. Just a little testy from having to deal with a lickable, grumpy, Scottish engineer.

There were no new messages as Jemma opened her phone by swiping over her lock-screen picture of her and Trip, with Daisy on one knee, all of them smiling widely while celebrating Trip’s promotion. Now he was off doing important stuff while she and Daisy were on a possible wild goose chase in Hawaii. Jemma opened up her texting app to tell Daisy about her night.  

**Jemma: The registration and dinner were a bust, no new leads.**

**DJ: Nothing exciting here either.**

**DJ: Except Coulson got a sunburn.**

**DJ: May’s been laughing at him behind his back.**

**Jemma: :-(**

**DJ: Oh well, go have fun.**

**Jemma: I’m going to bed.**

**DJ: I know. Have fun.**

**Jemma: You’re impossible.**

Locking her phone, Jemma changed out of her dress and into her comfortable nightgown and new knickers. At least the threadbare, somewhat stretched out of shape nightgown was the opposite of sexy. She didn’t want Fitz to think she was coming onto him by wearing slinky nightclothes. She’d gotten the message earlier about him being less than thrilled about making out as a cover. 

With a sigh, she brushed her teeth for three instead of two minutes. She recognized it for the delaying tactic it was. Going out and facing another night in bed with Fitz was terrifying.

****

Fitz was already under the covers when Jemma exited the bathroom. She clicked the light in the bathroom off, leaving the room illuminated only by the lamp on her side of the bed. 

He watched her, enchanted by the way light playing over her chestnut hair. Her nightgown didn’t reveal much, just gave a hint of her shape, which made her all the more alluring. Something caught in his throat, and he had to look away from her for a moment to compose himself. 

He settled down on his back as she climbed into bed and arranged herself in a similar position. 

“Goodnight, Fitz,” she said, turning off her lamp. 

“Night, Jemma,” he replied, his voice sounding slightly hoarse. 

It didn’t take him long to get uncomfortable. The room was cool, even though he hadn’t had time to mess with the AC yet, which was still pinging unhappily, but in a less obnoxious way than the previous night. Actually, the air was getting downright cold. He pulled the comforter up to his nose, not wanting to get frostbite in Hawaii. 

Jemma seemed okay with it, so he didn’t say anything. Well, he did made a tiny grunt when he rolled on his side, facing her. 

She was still on her back with her eyes closed. 

He’d be so much warmer if he could tug her towards him and spoon her like he had been that morning. Heat curled in his belly as he remembered the feel and scent of her, how she’d fit perfectly under his arm, how nice her ass had felt against his prick. 

Beside him, Jemma made an unhappy noise and rolled over, taking most of his blankets with her. 

“Hey,” he yelped, immediately grabbing his corner of the comforter and pulling it sharply back. The comforter came, and Jemma along with it. She ended up half sprawled on top of him. Oh fuck, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Fitz could distinctly feel her breasts squished between them. 

There was another awkward moment, and then they scrambled apart or at least tried to. Fitz’s fingers ended up tangled in her hair, which required them to be far too close for much too long for his liking. Her breath skittered across his cheek as he carefully untwisted her locks from around his fingers. 

He only would have to lean down a few centimeters, and he’d be kissing her. His heart was hammering in his chest, and it was so tempting. Just to know. He’d learned the scent of and the taste of the skin of her neck. Now he wanted to know how her lips felt. Tease her tongue. 

“Sorry,” Jemma murmured. 

“My fault,” he said. “I didn’t…let’s just go to sleep, yeah?”

“Okay.” She lay back, and he stretched out on his side, facing away from her this time. He still couldn’t rest. His mind was buzzing, mostly with Jemma. Even remembering seeing the lock screen photo on her phone didn’t work to drive her from his brain. Unless he wanted to explain why he needed a third shower, he was going to have to come up with something else to concentrate on. 

He resorting to imagining his London lab again, Jemma still working at her bench, except this time the project he thought about working on wasn’t the watch, but a set of drones he’d been making blueprints for, each one sending sensor data back to a central user. The idea was to set them in formation and have them monitor a certain area, but he was having trouble getting all the sensor tech small and light enough to make it work, even after beefing up the drone’s engines. 

He was mentally fiddling around with the design when he figured out he didn’t have to power the drones by conventional means. He could use a much smaller battery, he believed the ones he was thinking of were SHIELD technology, and that would free up a lot of room on the drone. 

“Jemma!” he said excitedly, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t actually in his lab. 

“What?” snapped a tired-but-certainly-not-asleep voice from beside him. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times as he got his bearings, oh right, Hawaii, hotel, bed, Jemma. 

“You asleep?” he asked.

“Not even close.”

“Good! I have an idea!” He threw back the covers, clicked on the light, and hurried to the table, coming back with the pad of graph paper and a pen. He sat cross-legged on the bed with his back against the headboard. Jemma frowned, but then sat up and scooted closer so she could see around his arm. He started sketching out a schematic of one of the drones, including the smaller battery, labeling parts as he went and excitedly explaining the idea to Jemma, along with the problems he was having. 

To his absolute delight, once he was done explaining, Jemma rested her head on his shoulder as she watched him sketch. Her brows drew together, and she was obviously thinking hard. It was adorable.  

“Each drone has to have a certain suite of instruments, like video feeds, but I think…” she trailed off. “It’s not quite your idea, but what if instead of making each drone capable of everything, why not build a set of them where each is a specialist? One that basically smells, one that detects metal, or whatever functions are needed.”

He turned to look at her. “You’re a genius,” he said, voice cracking slightly. A swarm of highly specialized drones for data collection would be amazing. There were many times that investigations into a crime were hampered by access to a site for whatever reason. These drones could go in when radiation or gas from a chemical weapon was still an issue. His flipped to a new page, and his hand moved faster as he started a redesign. 

There was a warm press as Jemma kissed him on the cheek. He paused for a second to savor the feeling, but the ideas for what she’d described were coming so quickly that he had to let them spill over onto paper. 

“Could we build several of these? I mean here, now,” Jemma asked. “Perhaps even a few with sound sensing equipment? We could deploy them in the hotel to help us keep track of people and hunt for our suspects.”

“Brilliant!” he said. “Perfect, yes. I’ll have to get some tools from my team. Hey, do you think SHIELD would let us use their batteries?” He pointed to the model number on the paper and Jemma snapped a photo that she sent to Coulson with a request before cuddling close to Fitz’s side again and thinking out loud as the design took shape. 

Fitz was so excited to that at one point he checked to make sure he wasn’t hovering several inches off the bed. 

****

Jemma was riding a wave of euphoria over the next few days. Besides a few meals at the different venues around the resort while listening for anything suspicious, which they didn’t find, Fitz and she spent all their time locked in their hotel room working on the D.W.A.R.F.s. Which was the name they’d agreed on, though altogether they were planning eight, not seven.

Daisy had rolled her eyes. “Drones automatically wired to retrieve forensics? It sounds like someone really wanted the initials to spell out DWARF.” 

“Maybe,” Jemma had hedged, holding out her hand for the bag full of batteries Coulson had approved for use in building the drones.

She and Fitz hardly slept, the thrill of working on the project fueling them to move forward on it at a full sprint. And it was so easy to work with him. They’d bicker and argue, but it was never mean-spirited, and it only made everything about the drones better. 

Because they’d had to relied on their teams bringing in pieces, the finished drones weren’t uniform in appearance, but that hardly mattered. 

On the morning of the third day since Fitz had shared his idea with her, Jemma woke to find herself curled up with Fitz, her head nestled on his shoulder. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but they had been sitting in bed again, discussing a design point, and she must have dozed off in exhaustion and Fitz had somehow managed to get them both lying down for a much-needed rest. 

Working so closely with him was sweet torture. They were almost always pressed together, either over designs or the drones themselves. Their shoulders had frequently bumped, and they’d even excitedly hugged a few times when a more difficult bug had at last been solved. It’d become natural for her to put a hand on his shoulder to help him relax when he was frustrated, and he’d bring her tea when she’d become so focused she’d forget everything else but the problem she was trying to find a solution to. 

It was maddening and wonderful and so perfect she didn’t know how she was supposed to ever give him up. 

They were in their pajamas, at least having given that much of a nod last night towards going to bed, and as Jemma extracted herself from the arm Fitz had around her and sat up, she pushed the covers down in order to get out of bed. Unintentionally, her eyes landed on Fitz’s midsection. His shirt had ridden up, and she could see a strip of pale skin along with the dark trail of hair that led from his abdomen to—

Oh.

She gasped. 

She hadn’t meant to, quite…her hands twisted into the bedsheets as she stared out the front of Fitz’s boxers. He was rather obviously erect. 

Jemma bit her lip. 

She couldn’t look away, or breathe, as heat gathered between her hip bones and her pussy clenched hard around nothing. 

If only they were more than…more than whatever they were. She’d kiss him awake and work her hand into the flap of his boxers to wrap around and stroke all of what she so clearly could see the outline of. 

Shame made her cheeks burn even as lust lit up the rest of her body. She shouldn’t be ogling Fitz like this. He was taken and if she read far too much into their casual touches, that was Jemma’s problem. It also wasn’t his fault that his body wasn’t immune to basic biological functions. Fitz most certainly hadn’t asked her to stand there while he was sleeping and gawk. 

Flipping the quilt back over him, she quickly walked to the bathroom and started the shower. At least the resort had instant hot water. She stripped and stood under the spray. 

Even though the water sluicing over her body was warm, her nipples remained stubbornly tight. Jemma was still feeling guilty for staring, but maybe a little harmless fantasy wouldn’t hurt. It was normal, nearly innocent. He was male and close, and it’d been… Jemma groaned as she pinched one of her nipples between her fingers as she cupped the other breast. Desire zipped in a burst of heat and electricity from her nipples to her core. 

The shower wasn’t her usual venue for getting herself off, but at the moment, nearly anywhere private would have worked. She had days’ worth of pent-up sexual energy from being close to Fitz that needed to be released. She spared a glance at the showerhead, having heard that a handheld one could be used to masturbate with, but this one didn’t detach and only had one setting. 

Fingers it was. 

She continued to play with her breasts with one hand as she moved the other lower, moaning softly when she slipped her fingers between her labia to stimulate her clitoris. Nice, sweet circles as her mind remained fixated on the sight of Fitz’s erection trapped in his boxers. 

Sweet wasn’t sufficient. 

Her fingers rubbed rapidly over her clit, and she violently wished she was not in the shower, but at home on her bed in her bedroom where she had a few toys that would help relieve the growing ache inside her. The one that demanded to be filled. 

Only she didn’t want cold plastic or impersonal glass. 

She wanted the heat of another body, the blue eyes and the sounds of his pleasure. She wanted to feel his hands gripping her while what she’d seen was moving inside her. She wanted…

She wanted…she wanted…she wanted…

Jemma came with a muffled gasp, leaning against the wall of the shower to stay upright as her hips jerked and her legs threatened to give out. 

That hadn’t taken long at all. 

Shakily, she picked up her shampoo bottle and hoped Fitz would have tea ready by the time she was done in the shower. 

Jemma giggled. 

She was already done in the shower. 

By the luau that night she hoped she’d be able to look her lab partner in the eye again. Otherwise, they were going to blow their cover as a couple. She sighed as she worked the shampoo into her scalp. This would be much easier if they were really a couple. If that was the case, Jemma knew exactly what it was that she’d be blowing. 


	8. E kahaha

“Just a little twist,” Fitz said, his voice low and rumbly. Jemma bit her lip and tried to keep her hand steady. “One more…” Fitz stopped, and a grin spread across his face as he looked up.

 

The DWARFs were complete.

 

They hadn’t made an entire set, but three sound and visual recording ones were ready for activation. A sense of pride swelled in her chest.

 

Jemma smiled back, her heart skipping a beat at the excited light in Fitz’s eyes. Ever since her tension-relieving shower this morning she was certain he’d be able to tell she’d been thinking about him in a decidedly not-just-friends way, but he seemed oblivious. She supposed she should be grateful, but instead she found she was a little disappointed. She’d climaxed in significantly less time than usual just thinking about the shape of his erection, you’d think something like that would show in her demeanor. 

 

She’d never thought she’d be the kind of girl who’d compete for a man’s affections, and yet here she was, wishing she was the only person he’d look at the way he was now. 

“We did it,” she said, a tad more breathlessly than she’d been aiming for. He just seemed so happy, and a piece of her ached to discover what it would take to keep that smile on his face all the time.

 

Fitz pushed his tablet towards her. “Want to do the honors?”

 

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” Jemma shook her head. “You built them, and-”

 

“We built them,” Fitz corrected. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

She dropped her gaze before a nervous giggle escaped her, concentrating on his hands instead. His strong, capable hands that had nimbly built such delicate instruments and…this was not helping her recover her equilibrium in the slightest.

 

“Together then?” Fitz said.

 

Jemma’s head snapped up. “What?” She sincerely hoped she hadn’t missed something important.

 

Fitz reached out and snagged her hand, cradling her fingers in his palm and tugging it towards the tablet screen. “Here we go...”

 

Jemma found herself holding her breath as he tapped one of the buttons, though of course she knew the DWARFs would work perfectly.

 

Fitz let out a delighted laugh the moment the autonomous drones lifted off the table and hovered in formation a foot above it, and Jemma wasn’t sure if she wanted to watch him or their invention more closely.

 

He stood, his fingers rapidly tapping the screen and sending the drones swooping around the room before they settled back on the table and quietly shut down. “Perfect,” he said in satisfaction. “Mack is going to be so jealous.”

 

“One of your team members?”

 

Fitz nodded and sent the drones on another flight around the room, critically eyeing them as they made a rapid series of ascents and dives before zooming under the bed and coming out again. “Yeah, we usually work together on things like this. He would have tried to add an ax to them though.”

 

Jemma laughed, propping her chin on her hand and watching Fitz furrow his brow in concentration as he sent their drones into the bathroom and tracked them on his tablet. “An ax?”

 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Everything should have an ax, according to Mack. We never would have gotten these things off the ground if it wasn’t for you.” He flashed another heart-melting grin at Jemma. “We’d better be careful, or he’ll try and convince you to come back to London with us.”

 

Desire swooped through Jemma’s belly and for a brief moment, she could almost picture it. Back in her home country with Fitz by her side, working in a quiet, well-stocked lab. They would make a formidable team, with Fitz elbows deep in his gadgets and her researching their practical applications, ordering takeaway on the nights they stayed late, Fitz coaxing her into trying some ridiculous new curry before they called it a night and headed home, where…

 

Jemma’s fantasy abruptly came crashing down. Where Fitz would go home to the loving arms of his perfect girlfriend and Jemma would go home to a dark, lonely flat. She wouldn’t even have Daisy to keep her company, and what would happen to Coulson and May if someone wasn’t around to patch them up every time they got into trouble? Which really happened more often than it should.

 

It just wasn’t meant to be.

 

Late afternoon sunlight was slanting through the window, highlighting the gold in Fitz’s curls. She watched him carefully maneuver the drones down onto the table before setting his tablet aside and sprawling back into the chair beside her. Reaching out, he absently slid his knuckles down her bare bicep, and her traitorous body lit up at his touch.  “What’s next?”

 

Struggling to keep herself in check, Jemma ran through her mental list of activities the conference-goers were encouraged to attend. So far, they’d struck out on finding anyone with more than a healthy curiosity about the tech Stark was debuting, let alone uncovered a host of scheming Russians. “I suppose we should attend tonight’s dinner.”

 

Fitz’s head fell back and he let out a groan. “Again? Didn’t we make these so we wouldn’t have to participate in insipid conversations all night?”

 

“We made these to help us listen in on conversations we aren’t participating in,” Jemma reminded him, not bothering to hide her smile. “Besides, we could probably do with some fresh air.”

 

“Is the dinner outside?”

 

“There’s a luau tonight.”

 

Fitz shot her a skeptical glance. “A luau.”

 

“I know, it’s incredibly touristy and not at all culturally sensitive, but everyone’s going to be there.”

 

“I was more concerned there might be group activities we’d have to participate in,” Fitz said, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “But you’re right, it’s also horribly insensitive. We probably shouldn’t go.”

 

“Fitz!” Jemma bumped his shoulder with her own, unable to resist touching him when he was so close. “We can’t just hide in here for the rest of the conference.”

 

“Too bad,” he murmured.

 

Jemma couldn’t tell him she completely agreed with him, though for entirely different reasons. She didn’t mind the socializing quite as much as Fitz did, but she hated having to share him with anyone during the short time they had left together.

 

“I’m sure Brad will be there.”

 

“Just promise you won’t leave me if any stranger’s family pictures make another appearance.”

 

“I was gone for three minutes!”

 

“Three of the longest minutes of my life.”

 

Jemma laughed, reaching out to curl her fingers around his palm so she could give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I promise we’ll stick together.”

 

Fitz heaved a sigh. “Fine. Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

 

***

 

Frowning into the mirror over the dresser, Fitz attempted to flatten out his curls before giving up. It wasn’t as though he had anyone to impress, except for Jemma, and she was merely a colleague who probably didn’t give a damn about the state of his hair.

 

Her phone had chimed with quite a lot of messages over the last couple of days, and every time it had reminded him that she was someone else’s girl, one he had no right to lust after. If only he could stop his damn hands from reaching for her every chance he got, and she’d stop smiling at him every time he touched her. It was bloody confusing.

 

The bathroom door opened and Jemma stepped out, wafting the scent of something sweet along with her. She was wearing a dress that somehow covered most of her and yet left little to the imagination, clinging to the curves of her breasts and hugging her hips. It was dark blue with splashes of bright color and when she moved the fabric, despite falling to her ankles, showcased the lines of her legs.

 

She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, and he saw a flash of amusement in her eyes. “Nice shirt.”

 

He looked down at the ridiculous button-up Hunter had somehow snuck into his bag, a white one covered in blue flowers of some kind. “I, uh, figured it was appropriate for a culturally insensitive event meant for tourists.”

 

He was rewarded with one of Jemma’s laughs that made her eyes crinkle at the corners before she bent to put on a pair of sandals and oh bloody hell the dress was backless. Delicate straps that looked much too flimsy to hold anything up were tied around her neck and he sincerely doubted she was wearing a bra.

 

“Ready to go?” Jemma straightened up and looked over at him. Her bare arms gleamed in the evening sunlight.

 

Fitz tried not to swallow his tongue. Colleagues. They were colleagues and that was fine. Wonderful even. He managed a nod and Jemma headed for the door of their hotel room while he focused on getting his feet to move. She’d done something with her hair, tying it up and exposing her graceful neck. He wanted to bury his face against it and breathe her in.

 

“Coming?” Jemma asked, opening the door. She looped her arm through his, pressing herself against his side as they went into the hall and yep, no bra.

 

It was the sweetest torture he’d ever known.

 

He didn’t even bother looking back to check If the door had closed behind them. Jemma wouldn’t let them be careless. He listened to her chatter with another couple they met on the elevator, trying to recover his wits so that he didn’t stare at her like some lovestruck ponce all night, marveling at how easily she struck up conversations with virtual strangers.

 

He would have blown this mission without her. The DWARFs would still be schematics needing revisions if she hadn’t been there to help solve all the problems they’d run across. How he was supposed to go back to his normal life after this, where there’d be a great, Jemma-shaped hole, he hadn’t a clue.

 

“Don’t you think, Fitz?” Jemma squeezed his arm and looked up at him questioningly.

 

“Er, yes?” he replied, hoping he wasn’t supposed to contribute more than that.

 

She beamed at him and he relaxed again as the elevator doors opened to deposit them in the lobby.

 

They traipsed across the patio and along a meandering path lit with tiki torches that took them down the beach. Jemma held on tightly to his hand, lifting the hem of her skirt to keep from tripping in the shifting sand. The breeze blowing in off the ocean had loosened her hairstyle, letting some of the strands fly about her face. The sun was setting out over the water, the surf was calm, and he was walking beside the girl of his dreams. Something in his chest tightened and he rubbed the spot over his heart, trying to soothe it.

 

“You know,” Jemma said, coming to a halt and staring out across the beach. “It’s a shame we’re working, really. Would you look at that?” She gestured out over the ocean. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. And here we are, trying to find some no-show saboteurs.” She let out a long sigh. “I can’t believe I sat through all those sessions with May to brush up on my Russian for nothing.”

 

A group of guests from the hotel noisily approached, but instead of continuing on towards the festivities, Jemma just kept watching the horizon. Fitz released her hand and settled a palm on her hip, moving to stand behind her. She leaned against his chest without hesitation, her head coming to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, and she tugged his hand until his arms slid around her waist.

 

Briefly closing his eyes, Fitz took a deep breath, letting the scent of her fill his nose. The chattering grew louder and then faded away as the people passed, but Fitz hardly caught a word they said. “It’s nice.”

 

Jemma let out a small laugh, her body shaking slightly in his arms. “Yes, Fitz, it is nice.” 

 

“No,” Fitz tried to get his brain to focus on something other than the woman he was holding. “I mean, even if we’re working, it’s nice to be here.” He paused, debating. “I’m glad I had the chance to meet you.”

 

Jemma was silent for a moment, but just as he was starting to worry he’d given too much of himself away, she answered, “Me too, Fitz.” The sincerity in her voice eased the pain in his heart a little, even as she stepped out of the circle of his arms.

 

“Shall we?” She started in the direction the crowd had gone. Her face was turned away from him, but she held out her hand for him to take.

 

Fitz threaded their fingers together and they walked a little further down the beach towards the lights and sounds of the crowd.

 

“Fitz!” someone exclaimed as they approached the luau. Fitz frowned, looking around until he spotted Brad waving eagerly from one of the picnic tables, where he was sitting with a few other people.

 

“Why don’t you go say hello and I’ll get us some drinks.” Jemma released his hand and disappeared before he could protest.

 

“Come, sit!” George said cheerfully, indicating an open spot at the table across from him and Brad. “We haven’t seen much of you two lately.” George gave him an exaggerated wink. “Too busy to enjoy the island?”

 

Fitz fought a blush. “Ah, something like that.”

 

“Here we are,” Jemma said cheerfully, setting a colorful drink in front of Fitz and sitting beside him. “Hello, George, Brad, it’s nice to see you.”

 

Fitz picked up his drink and frowned at the amount of fruit floating in it. Based on their last few shared meals, he was fairly certain Jemma was trying to sneakily up his fruit and veg intake. 

 

“What’s this?” He lifted it to his lips for a taste.

 

“Don’t worry, I got us virgins.” Jemma patted Fitz’s hand and he nearly choked on a chunk of strawberry.

 

“What?”

 

George’s eyebrows lifted. “Are congratulations in order?”

 

“Sorry?” Jemma asked, startled. Fitz was still processing Jemma’s comment about virgins. He took another cautious sip. Ah, no alcohol, right.

 

“Don’t pester them.” Brad nudged George’s shoulder with his own. “I’m sure they’ll share the good news when they’re ready.”

 

Jemma’s eyes widened while Fitz tried to work out what the hell everyone was talking about. 

 

“Oh no,” she said, sounding flustered. Her tone had Fitz sliding his hand along her lower back, trying to convey his concern. Jemma glanced at him, her cheeks pink. “That is, no, we’re just not drinking tonight. I’m certainly not…” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice to a whisper, “Pregnant.”

 

Fitz went entirely still, his hand unmoving on Jemma’s back. A cascade of images flooded his brain that he tried not to examine too closely. Snippets of Jemma with a gently rounded belly slipped through, her smile as they lay together in bed like they’d woken up these last few mornings, only this time he could touch her as much as he wanted.

 

Jemma stood abruptly. “Oh look, I’ve always wanted to…to learn the hula.” She hurried across the sand, leaving a dazed Fitz staring after her.

 

George looked at him guiltily. “Sorry, me and my big mouth. I didn’t mean to pry.”

 

Brad mimed zipping his husband’s mouth shut and throwing away the key. “We’re going to get some food, and when we come back, I’ll tell you all about the amazing dive spot I went to yesterday.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Fitz said absently. He watched Jemma as she stepped into line with a half dozen other people and began to copy the movements of a woman wearing a bikini top and a wrap skirt. He caught the flicker of annoyance on her face when one of the other guests started exaggeratedly swinging their hips, laughing, and a moment later she looked up, seeking him out so she could roll her eyes. She didn’t seem mad at him for freezing up, thank god.

 

He tipped his drink in her direction and leaned back to enjoy watching her dance. She might hate the tourist trappings, but he’d bet she wasn’t about to let that stop her from perfecting her hula.

 

***

 

Jemma tried to catch her breath, pushing a strand of hair that had escaped her bun out of her face and smiling when she caught Fitz’s gaze again.

 

She suspected half the reason he was watching her so closely was the rather buxom blonde leading the hula lessons, but at least he didn’t seem to be too upset by George’s understandable leap of logic. Hopefully, she’d extricated herself before things had gotten too awkward. Next time she’d have to be sure and reassure him about their drink orders a bit more privately.

 

In the meantime, she’d had just about enough cultural appropriation for one night.

 

“All right ladies,” the annoyingly perky instructor announced. “From the top!”

 

Jemma dropped out of line as the other women began to swivel their hips and walked back towards Fitz and their table. He had two plates of food in front of him, and he pushed one towards her as she sat down. “You’ve got to be hungry after all that.”

 

She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Making a fool of one’s self does take it out of you.”

 

“Trust me, you did not look like a fool.”

 

Jemma watched the hula dancers spin slowly to the left with varying degrees of arhythmic hip swinging and cast a doubtful look at Fitz. “Uh huh.” She took a bite of something on her plate and hummed in surprise. “Oh, this is delicious, what is it?”

 

“Spam,” Fitz said, struggling to keep a straight face.

 

Jemma snorted and took another bite. “You’re a horrible liar.”

 

“Look who’s talking. I think George is convinced you’re having twins after that earlier denial.”

 

Jerking her head up, Jemma felt her cheeks heat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…you know.”

 

Fitz looked perplexed. “Aren’t we supposed to be implying that sort of thing?”

 

“Oh, right.” Jemma supposed she should feel relieved, but melancholy was bubbling up inside her instead. She’d almost forgotten everything that’d happened tonight was done to maintain their cover. The stroll along the beach where he’d held her close, the heat in his eyes when she’d been dancing, it was all for show. She picked at her food for a few more minutes, listening to the buzz of conversation around them, and finally pushed the plate away. 

 

“Finished?” Fitz yawned beside her. “Call it a night?”

 

“We’ve only just arrived.”

 

“Maybe it’ll fuel some more rumors,” Fitz said, sounding amused. 

 

Jemma turned to him, shocked. “Fitz!”

 

He shrugged unconcernedly, getting up from the table and offering her his hand. “No one new turned up tonight that I could see. I think we’ve earned a break.” Jemma hesitated before accepting the help up, determined not to ruin the easy rapport they’d developed over the last few days. She let him thread their fingers together and waved at Brad and George as they left, pasting a smile on her face.

 

The moon was just a sliver in the sky, but the torches were still lit, and they found their way back easily, walking in companionable silence towards the hotel.

 

Jemma came up with and discarded a dozen different conversation topics, mostly because they all somehow ended in her demanding to know why Fitz didn’t find her attractive when he was all she could think about. That was one subject guaranteed to make their nights together even more awkward than they were already. Though the last couple hadn’t been so bad, since they’d seemed to reach a silent agreement that accidental cuddling was perfectly fine as long as it wasn’t mentioned in the light of day. If only she could accidentally do a lot more than just cuddle with him. 

 

“Do you think we should start tomorrow morning?” Fitz asked.

 

Jemma spent a frantic moment trying to figure out if she’d said that last part aloud.

 

“Using the drones, I mean.” Fitz let out a low chuckle that sent a thrill up Jemma’s spine. “Sorry, forgot I wasn’t having that conversation with you out loud.”

 

Jemma let out a laugh of her own, feeling silly. She had to get ahold of herself, for goodness sakes, she was a professional and this was a mission. “That sounds like a good idea. Send them on a test scout.”

 

“We’ll have to figure out how to deploy them inside,” Fitz mused, opening the door to the lobby for her before following her in.

 

“Through the bathroom vent?” Jemma suggested.

 

“Might just give us access to our floor, but that’s a good start.”

 

“I can ask Daisy for the hotel blueprints.”

 

“Mack probably has them already,” Fitz said as they stepped out of the elevator and he fumbled in his pocket for their room key. “I’ll check…”

 

Whatever Fitz was going to say was lost as a man dressed head to toe in black came flying out of one of the rooms down the hall, his head bouncing off the opposite wall. He crumpled momentarily before regaining his feet. He was wearing a mask, but that wasn’t what got Jemma’s undivided attention.

 

It was the gun in his hand.


	9. Kokoke

Jemma stared at the muzzle of the gun pointed at her as every bit of training she’d ever received pertaining to firearm-related incidents ran through her mind. It was rather a lot and resulted in her not actually doing anything.

Though she was fairly certain of the make and model of the firearm and that wasn’t a homemade silencer on the end of it. Whoever this was, he wasn’t some local out to steal jewelry from tourists.

Jemma yelped as Fitz pushed her behind him.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Protecting you,” he said.

“No one asked you to,” she shot back. Images of Fitz shot and bleeding ran through her mind. It made her feel sick and dizzy. “What if I would rather protect you?” She tried to tug at his arm, but he did his best to wiggle out of her grasp.

“No, Jemma,” he said. “Stay back.”

“Really, Fitz, just because I’m a woman you’re going to insist on being the one doing the protecting?”

“Stop!” The gunman, his face hidden behind a black ski mask, sighed loudly and somehow managed to look nonplused. “Both of you, against the wall. Sit down and shut up.”

He took a step forward, and Jemma immediately stumbled backwards until her back was against the wall, Fitz beside her. The both sank down until they were sitting on the ground. Fitz wrapped his hands tightly around hers.

“Just for the record, it’s not because you’re a woman,” Fitz whispered. “But because I—”

“Shut up!” the gunman yelled, and Fitz lapsed into silence, though his hands squeezed hers.

There were several long moments where nothing happened, except that the gunman kept his weapon aimed at them. Jemma attempted to remember to breathe and figure out what to do. She was fairly certain the first thing she was supposed to do in a situation like this was to remain calm.

That was trickier than it looked. Jemma took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing heart, but all that happened was that she whimpered and her hands shook. Fitz turned his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Yelling erupted from the room the gunman had come out of, and in the next instant another ski mask wearing man was thrown out of the room, followed closely by a blonde woman, batons in her hands. Oh, terrific, it was Fitz’s ex. Just who Jemma wanted to see.

The gunman who’d been watching her and Fitz spun towards the commotion. The other ski mask guy had gotten up and launched another attack on Bobbi, who was defending herself with quite a bit of skill.

The gunman was lining up a shot on Bobbi, but Fitz let go of Jemma’s hands and started to stand. “Bobbi,” he barked.  

The gunman whirled towards Fitz, firing twice before one of Bobbi’s batons knocked the gun from his hand.

Fitz dropped heavily against the wall and slid down as Jemma screamed.

“Let’s go!” one of the bad guys hollered, and both of them darted down the hotel’s hallway and out of sight around a corner.

Jemma knew she was sobbing. She needed to get to Fitz, but her legs weren’t cooperating. She could stop any bleeding, stabilize him…

Bobbi was on her phone, but she clicked it off and ran over to Fitz, bending down and putting her hands on his arm and chest. “Are you okay?”

“Mostly,” Fitz croaked.

Jemma cried harder in relief at hearing him speak.

“Are you hit?” Bobbi asked.

“No, uh, don’t think so.” He craned his head to look up the wall where there were two bullet holes.

“You could be,” Bobbi said, “and just in shock. Let me check.” To Jemma’s horror, Bobbi started patting her hands down his chest. The hussy! Fitz could be hurt, and she was using it as a chance to feel him up. There obviously weren’t any bullet holes in his chest. Jemma’s tears were long forgotten.

She couldn’t let this woman and her sub-par medical skills continue to paw at Fitz.

“Excuse me,” Jemma said loudly. “I have a lot of medical training.”

Bobbi stopped what she was doing to glance at Jemma. “Uh, okay.”

Jemma pushed herself off the wall and roughly shouldered Bobbi out of the way, who frowned, but stood and backed up.

“Are you feeling dizzy or lightheaded?” Jemma asked Fitz, whose mouth was hanging slightly open.

“Not really.”

Jemma quickly ran her hands down his sides and legs. “There’s no blood,” she murmured and a second wave of relief washed over her. The bullets seemed to have completely missed him. “Does anything hurt, at all?”

“My head, I banged it on the wall when I was trying to get out of the line of fire.”

She whipped out her cell phone and thumbed on the torch. “Count backwards from one hundred by nines. I’m just going to check your pupils. You could have a concussion.”

“Er, one hundred, ninety-one, eighty-two, seventy-three,” Fitz rattled off.

Jemma leaned forward and gently put her hands on his face to keep his eyelid open as she checked to make sure his pupil constricted appropriately. It did, and she switched to the other eye, which meant she had to stretch across him a little and bring her face even closer to his.

“Sixty-four…fifty-five…um, forty…six…thirty, thirty…” Fitz trailed off, and the eye she was examining darted away from her.

“Hey,” said a new voice.

“Hi, Mack, “ Bobbi responded.

“Fitz okay?”

“I think so. He got shot at. Jemma’s examining him. She said she has medical training.”

Mack chuckled. “I’m sure she does, even if that’s not entirely what it looks like.”

Jemma sighed and turned around, standing as she switched off the torch on her phone. “I have no idea who you are, but I assure you I am well qualified.”

Mack held up his hands. “I’m just here for the gun.”

“He’s on my team,” Fitz said.

“Well, that’s wonderful.” Jemma crossed her arms, remembering Fitz had mentioned him before. “But I’m very concerned that you have a mild concussion, Fitz. You should have been able to count down those numbers without an issue.”

Bobbi and Mack shared a look that Jemma chose to ignore as she turned and helped Fitz to stand. She immediately put her arm around him in case he was woozy. Head injuries were something you didn’t mess around with.

“Really, I’m fine Jemma. Forty-six, thirty-seven, twenty-eight, nineteen, ten, one. See?”

“You had a moment to think about it,” Jemma said.

Fitz sighed.

“I’m going to get you back to our room and tuck you in, okay?”

“That sounds alright,” Fitz said, a little smile turning up one corner of his mouth. “Let’s go.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Mack was snapping gloves on his hands and kneeling by the discarded gun. “Hunter’s running interference with the staff and almost all the guests are still at the luau, but we don’t have long to clean up,” he said. “We’ll let Fitz know if we get any leads and you can pass it along to SHIELD, alright?” He was looking at Jemma.

She nodded, then tugged on Fitz to steer him towards the hallway where their room was.

“She’s SHIELD?” Bobbi said from behind them.

“Yup,” Mack said.

Jemma could only make out the tone of her reply as she and Fitz turned a corner. It didn’t sound like Bobbi was happy.

Good.

****

Fitz didn’t know exactly what was happening. He’d been ten kinds of terrified in the last ten minutes, first that Jemma was going to be hurt, and then that he’d been shot at. The result was that he felt a little floaty.

Jemma asking questions followed by her leaning so close he could feel her breath on his lips had made him think for a moment that she was going to start snogging him. Her proximity had been distracting, and he’d lost his train of thought, which had led to Jemma thinking he was hurt.

Which was turning out to be a not terrible thing.

Her arm was still around him, and her side was against his. That was nice. He only had to tilt his head a little, and his nose was in her hair, which smelled lovely and flowery.

“Okay, we’re here,” she said brightly, unlocking the door to the hotel room. Inside she directed Fitz to the bed, pulling back the covers and having him sit down. “Does your head still hurt?”

“Not much.” He rubbed at the back of his skull. Jemma immediately moved so she was in between his knees, and her fingers were sliding through his hair. He had to stifle a groan, especially because he was eye level with her breasts, which her dress lovingly outlined. When she stepped away, he was barely able to stop himself from grabbing her hips and keeping her right where she was.

Jemma rummaged through a small bag, then took a bottle of water out of the room’s minifridge and opened the top. She put the water on the bedside table and took his hand, putting a couple of pills on his palm.

“It’s just acetaminophen,” she said. “It’ll help the headache, so take it. I’m going to get changed.”

She went into the bathroom, and he gulped the pills down, draining half the bottle of water. His adrenaline high was starting to wear off, and he was getting shaky. Being shot at wasn’t fun, and he found himself staring at the bathroom door, waiting for Jemma to reappear.

When she did, she was in her nightgown with her hair around her shoulders, and her face scrubbed clean. She’d never looked lovelier.

Jemma clucked her tongue and brought Fitz’s pajama’s over to him, laying them on the side of the bed before she went to her knees in front of him.

“Allow me,” she said, and his eyes went wide. He certainly wasn’t going to stop her if—

Jemma undid the laces of his shoes and slid them off his feet, followed by his socks.

Oh.

She stood, one of her bare legs on either side of his knee, and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. He looked down as she nimbly went from one to the next, shrugging the shirt off when she told him to. His lungs didn’t seem to want to inflate all the way as Jemma skimmed her fingers over him, looking for injuries.

“Not a scratch,” she announced with a smile. Then she went after his belt, and Fitz had to grab her wrists. If she undid his trousers, he wasn’t going to be responsible for what she found.

Fitz rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. “Um, perhaps you can put the kettle on? I should use the loo before getting in bed.”

She bit her lips and chewed at it while she studied him, a worried look on her face. “If you get light headed at all you’ll tell me?”

“I will.” He let go of her hands, and she briefly rested them on his shoulders before stepping back and letting him stand. It was all he could do not to take her in his arms and kiss her concern away. If he thought she wanted it at all, if he didn’t know she had a boyfriend waiting for her to return, he would have done it.

He sighed and trudged to the bathroom, used the toilet, washed his hands, and pulled his sleep shirt on over his head before taking off his trousers and pants and putting on the boxers he slept in. When he exited, he found the kettle just starting to steam.

Jemma took his dirty clothes from him and bent down—her legs really were lovely—to scoop his discarded shirt and socks from the floor to put them in the hotel’s laundry bag. Her back was to him as she fussed with his clothes. Abruptly, she straightened.

“Fitz,” she said, her voice shaking. “Fitz?”

He was beside her immediately. “What’s wrong?”

She had the ridiculous blue flower Hawaiian shirt in her hands. “Look.” Jemma held up the shirt and stuck her finger through a very round hole in the fabric right under the sleeve.

A bullet had gone through under his arm.

Jemma’s face crumpled, and she dropped the shirt. “You could have died,” she said around sobs.

Not knowing what else to do, Fitz wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. She fisted his t-shirt and pressed her face into his shoulder.

“I’m alright,” he soothed, rubbing a hand over her back. The evidence that a bullet had been that close to him was unsettling, but it was also over and done. The crying woman in his arms was a much bigger concern. He needed to get her focused on something else. She’d been so sure of herself as she’d taken care of him. Ah, that was it. “I am feeling a little dizzy,” he whispered, though the only spinning his head was doing was from being so close to Jemma.

“Oh!” she exclaimed Her tears immediately stopped, and she quickly rubbed the wetness from her cheeks with the heels of her palms. “Sorry, of course. You should sit.” He was propelled backwards by a very determined Jemma until his legs met the bed. He sat and swung his legs into the bed, remaining upright against the headboard. She tucked the blankets around him as the kettle started whistling.  “I’ve got it,” she said, going to turn it off and pour the water.

Fitz looked longingly at her back. If only she was really his. Then there wouldn’t be this looming deadline when she’d be returning to her boyfriend, and Fitz would be relegated back to being a colleague she would chat with sometimes. Chat with a lot, if he had his way. Because he wasn’t giving her up, not completely.

He’d had the proverbial brush with death today, and it had reminded him that he was often very much alone. Though up until now he’d valued that. At the end of a long day, he’d been happy to go home to his tiny flat and collapse on his sofa with no one to bother him. Now he was only going to be alive when he could talk to her, see her smile. Everything else would just be the boring time in between his calls with Jemma.

Absurdly, he hoped she was already married because getting a wedding invitation would be more than his heart could handle. He’d have to send them the most boring gift in the universe. A ramekin stand, maybe, where the cups were plain white. Or a rice maker, a tiny one that never made quite enough.

“Everything alright?” Jemma asked as she set both cups of tea on his nightstand.

He nodded, and she frowned, pulling out her phone and lighting the torch up. “Let me check again,” she said, and Fitz gritted his teeth as she leaned in close to check his pupils. “They appear to be fine, but you should stay awake for a while yet, just in case.”

“Right. We could watch TV. I have one of those sticks you plug into the TV in the front of my bag so we won’t have to subsist on the hotel’s cable.”

Jemma retrieved it, gave him the remote, and plugged in the stick before returning to the bed and sitting on her side. Fitz handed her mug to her, and she blew on the top. “I don’t know if the wifi here is going to make using that stick a possibility.”

Fitz scoffed. “Like I’d rely on hotel wifi. I modified it, gets a signal from a satellite most people don’t know exists.”

“That’s wonderful news! Do you have anything from home?”

“British TV, you mean? Why don’t you see?” He gave her the remote, and her face lit up as she started scrolling through the selections.  “Why do I have to stay awake?” he asked. “What does that do? Is there some hormone or something?”

Jemma laughed, that wonderful sound. “No, nothing like that. It’s so I can evaluate you and make sure the head injury doesn’t get any worse, which would require further treatment, maybe in hospital.”

“Ah, got it. You do realize that means you also have to stay awake?”

“I know.” Jemma suppressed a yawn. “Is Doctor Who okay?”

“Classic or new?”

“Classic. Maybe go through and watch all of the Cybermen episodes?”

“Sounds perfect. It’s been ages since I’ve seen any.”

Jemma made a disgruntled sound and mumbled something like, “…bet she only watches soaps.”

Fitz frowned. Who would be watching soap? And why? Rather than ask, he simply leaned towards Jemma, who looked indecisive for a moment, then lifted his arm and snuggled against him. He tentatively put it around her, and when she didn’t push him away, he relaxed.

“I was excited as a boy,” he said a few minutes into the episode. “When I learned that the Doctor had a Scottish companion.”

“Jamie’s one of my favorites too, I’ve always liked a good Scottish burr.”

Fitz smiled, put the dregs of his tea on the nightstand, and settled his arm more securely around Jemma, filing that tidbit away for later. He’d bet her boyfriend was American and didn’t know a loch from his arse. Fitz was inordinately pleased that he had at least one thing going for him.

Though speak of the devil…Jemma’s phone lit up with an incoming text, and she wiggled out from under his arm to type a reply.

A lot of Fitz’s good humor disappeared as he imagined her typing out sweet goodnight phrases to someone else.

“Your team has handed off the pistol to my team, and they're trying to trace it. Like I thought, it’s a Russian-made gun, which could be circumstantial or evidence that the Russians are here and involved.”

“Those two didn’t sound Russian,” he said, feeling both relieved and guilty that the texting was work-related.

“That doesn’t mean a lot. They were obviously after the Stark Industries device. I’m being advised that both MI6 and SHIELD want us to step up surveillance.”

He nodded and picked up his phone as the screen lit up.

**Hunter: Did you bang her? Bobbi said Jemma was crawling all over you.**

**Fitz: Sod off.**

**Hunter: Mack says you guys need to watch closer and find these guys.**

**Fitz: I got it.**

**Hunter: Remember foreplay, birds dig that.**

He didn’t bother replying, but he did have to repress a laugh. Hunter was impossible.

Fitz looked up to find Jemma frowning on him.

“Recite the digits of pi,” she said. “I need to know you’re doing okay.”

“Um, Three point one four one five nine-” He kept going, much longer than he thought he would have to before she stopped him with a sheepish smile.

“That’s as far as I have memorized,” Jemma said, finally sitting back down. Her shoulders slumped.

“You okay?” he asked.

She put her legs under the blankets. “I…I’m not as comfortable with this field stuff as I thought I’d be. I’m the lab girl. I analyze things and write reports. Sometimes I might go into a very controlled situation to collect samples. Once in a while, I help by synthesizing a new compound or the like. So I was excited to be here, right up until I nearly saw you killed.”

It looked like tears were gathering in her eyes again.  Fitz opened his arms, and she crawled into them.

“I’m the lab guy, too,” Fitz said. “I make gadgets and tinker, and that’s about it. It was scary today, but I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes again, because I got to meet you.” He ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear. Jemma needed to be ready over the next couple of days because he was going to shower her in public with all the affection he couldn’t in private. Even if she only thought it was pretend, he’d know he meant every touch and glance.

“I’m glad I met you as well,” she sniffed. “We’re going to have to stay up for a few more hours.”

“I’m going to need more tea soon if that’s the case.”

“Certainly.”

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at her as they rearranged themselves, her curled up against him once more. He couldn’t tell her, but her being concerned for him and being willing to care for him was the best medicine.


	10. Humuhumunukunukuapua'a

Jemma woke up slowly, her whole body loose and warm. A weight was slung across her waist, anchoring her to the bed, and something was tickling her jaw. The last thing she remembered was curling up against Fitz after their second round of tea and struggling to stay awake, even though her subsequent tests for a concussion didn’t seem to indicate he was in any danger. 

Drowsily, she cracked open one eye and squinted at the bright sunlight filtering into the room around the edge of the curtains. They’d likely missed breakfast again. The air conditioner was still pinging away, sounding terrible but valiantly keeping the room cool. Fitz’s head was tucked under her chin and his lips grazed her collarbone every time she drew a breath. His arm was wrapped securely around her, and she knew she should put some distance between them but, just for a moment, while he was still asleep, she wanted to indulge herself.

She’d been tempted at one point last night to ask him to recite his address and phone number so she could file away that bit of information for when she went home for a visit. Jemma could picture the way his face would light up when he found her standing on the other side of his door, his smile wide and bright and his eyes soft; the same way he’d looked at her whenever she’d helped him solve a tricky problem with the drones. 

She carefully threaded her fingers through Fitz’s hair. He made a contented noise and the hand on her hip tightened before he relaxed with a sigh. She gently rubbed his scalp as his breathing evened out once more. 

Of course, the more likely scenario was that his brainy, lingerie-model girlfriend would answer the door and delight in watching Jemma’s heart break. Or—even more horribly—his girlfriend would be  _ nice _ .

Jemma stared guiltily at the top of Fitz’s head, her fingers trailing down the back of his neck. She really should get up and stop daydreaming about her poor mission partner. It wasn’t his fault she was enjoying every minute they had to pretend to be a couple more than she was supposed to. Nor was it on him to tell her heart to stop mistaking his obviously excellent undercover skills for the real thing. 

No, her ridiculous crush that had blossomed into the kind of full-blown longing she used to roll her eyes about was entirely her own problem. She traced the line of Fitz’s spine down towards his squeezable bum before sighing quietly and letting her hand drop onto the mattress. He wasn’t hers, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Except…

Fitz mumbled something under his breath and his arm shifted slightly, brushing the underside of her breasts and making her nipples stand at attention. Jemma stifled a whimper. There was only one thing she could do: be the best pretend-girlfriend Fitz had ever seen. It was her role in this mission, after all, and if it opened his eyes to just how wonderfully they fit together…well, that would just be a nice bonus.

***

Fitz was fussing over the DWARFs when Jemma exited the bathroom a short time later. 

She hadn’t quite managed to wiggle out from under his arm before he’d woken up, and she’d used the excuse of checking his concussion (he was quite lucky to have escaped most of the ill effects) to stay close to him just a tiny bit longer.

He’d hared off to use the loo immediately after he’d finished reciting the equation for translational motion and Jemma had decided to check in with Daisy when she heard the shower start, knowing he’d be a while. He really did fuss over his personal hygiene, though she supposed she appreciated the way he smelled, so she couldn’t be too upset about how he hogged the bathroom. 

“Any updates this morning?” she’d asked when Daisy picked up on the other end.

“Good morning to you too. Kind of a late start isn’t it? Anything you want to share?”

Jemma had rolled her eyes. “Fitz is doing just fine after his concussion scare, thanks for asking.”

“I’m sure you made a great nurse. Too bad that’s one outfit you forgot to pack.”

“Daisy! The Russians?”

“You’re no fun. Coulson said we need the drones and you guys both working on finding these baddies. The sooner the better. Stark’s people are refusing to push back the presentation, probably because they’d have to reschedule the burlesque show or something.”

“Understood. We’ll figure something out.”

“Have you tried the ‘can you help me untie this bikini top’ trick yet? That always works.”

“Bye, Daisy.”

Jemma and Fitz had spent a good ten minutes after he’d reemerged from the bathroom arguing—debating, she liked to think—how to both deploy the drones and do their own reconnaissance, but in the end he’d seen sense and agreed to her plan. Or rather, she’d pointed out the difficulties of participating in a snorkeling tour while controlling the drones, as well as possible range limitations, and Fitz had finally admitted defeat. 

Not that it had stopped him from pouting about it, however. Jemma took in his morose expression as he checked the drones one last time before packing them carefully into a bag for transport. “I’m sure they’ll be fine,” she couldn’t resist saying. 

Fitz glanced up at her, and she could feel his gaze sweep her from head to toe. She’d gone with her less risqué two-piece, a sea green bikini in a retro style with more coverage than the red one, and thrown a white, knee-length sundress over it. Something flitted across his face that made her pulse race and she began to regret her decision not to blow off some steam in the shower again. 

“We should be the ones getting to send them on their inaugural run,” Fitz groused, dropping his eyes back to the drones. The back of his neck was red and she made a mental note to pack some extra sunscreen for their adventure today. “What if something goes wrong?” 

“You said Mack is an excellent engineer.”

“Yeah, but he’s not you and I,” Fitz replied, tucking the last of the drones away. Jemma’s heart glowed at the compliment. 

“We’re needed elsewhere,” she said, not without regret. She’d wanted to see their devices in action as much as Fitz had, though she’d never admit she’d more been looking forward to watching him delight in piloting the drones than whatever they managed to discover.

Fitz made a sour face. “Yeah, great, an entire afternoon stuck on a boat with the same people we’ve been investigating all week with nothing to show for it.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.” Jemma picked up her tote and slipped on her flip-flops. “Shall we go drop those off? We’re due in the lobby in a few minutes.”

“What about breakfast?” 

“I packed some snacks for you.” 

Fitz blinked at her. “You got me snacks?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t keep any around yourself, you’re terribly cranky when you’re hungry.” 

“I am not!” 

“Here.” Jemma pulled a bag of trail mix out of her tote. “You’ll feel better after some protein.” 

He hesitated only a moment before taking it from her and stomping towards the door of their room. “Fine, but I don’t get cranky.” 

“No, of course not.” Jemma smiled at his back and made sure the door was firmly closed behind them. 

***

Fitz would never admit it to her, but Jemma had been right to make him pass the drones off to Mack this morning. Between the salt water, the crush of guests, and the organized chaos of a sightseeing boat that was also serving daiquiris, he never would have found the time or privacy needed for a covert piloting mission. 

And that was before Jemma had insisted they join the others in the water, despite his reluctance.  _ Why would we join this excursion and not snorkel, Fitz, honestly, that’d look a bit suspicious, _ she’d whispered while simultaneously slathering his back in sunscreen. By the time he’d finished luxuriating in the feel of her hands all over him and recovered his wits, she’d taken off her sundress and asked him to do her back and he’d forgotten why he’d tried to get out of snorkeling in the first place.

He couldn’t get used to how warm the water was, though every time Jemma dove down to explore something, her long legs kicking, he deeply appreciated that it wasn’t the cold, wetsuit-required ocean he was used to. Perch her on a rock and he was certain she could run ships aground. 

Despite the fact that they were far from the only people in the water, it felt like they were in their own little world. He was content to mostly float along on the surface, watching colorful fish dart behind rocks and between anemones with tentacles swaying in the current. Jemma grasped his arm every time she spotted something new, pointing, and he could easily imagine her breathless lectures about whatever it was she wanted him to see. 

A sea turtle passed below them, skimming along the ocean floor, and Jemma hugged Fitz’s arm in excitement, pressing her breasts against his bicep as the turtle lazily followed the curve of the reef. Fitz brushed his knuckles along her hip to acknowledge he’d seen it and tried to fix this moment in his memory so he could pull it out to treasure later. 

Not long after the turtle, Jemma tapped Fitz’s shoulder and he lifted his head up, treading water and spitting out his snorkel. Her eyes were bright as she pulled off her mask, and she was grinning. “Isn’t this just amazing? Did you see the turtle?” Her smile dimmed a little. “I suppose we should get back to the boat. There were a few new faces I don’t remember seeing before.”

Fitz looked around. Most of the people who’d come out to snorkel were still paddling about, and it would be easier for them to overhear conversations when the boat was less crowded, plus they could watch people coming in out of the water to see if they recognized anyone from the mission files. “I suppose so.” 

Jemma was already swimming towards the boat at a leisurely pace and he followed close behind, watching the sunlight glint off her pale shoulders. She dunked her head, slicking her hair back out of her face, just before climbing up the ladder out of the water and Fitz scrambled up ungracefully after her, trying desperately to think of anything but how much he wanted to taste every inch of her exposed skin as well as the bits she was hiding. 

“It’s too bad we couldn’t stay out a little longer,” Jemma said wistfully, watching the other snorkelers. Fitz scrubbed a hand through his wet curls, gathered his courage, and reached out to slide a hand across her exposed lower back in a soothing, boyfriendly gesture. To his utter delight, she cuddled against his side and slipped an arm around his waist, letting out a sigh. 

“Maybe next time,” he offered, feeling a bit lightheaded. 

“Next time?” Jemma tilted her head back so he could see the smile playing on her lips but left her cheek resting against his shoulder. “It seems highly unlikely that this would all happen again.”

“Maybe we can ask Stark for an encore next year.”

Jemma laughed, her body shaking against his, and happiness bubbled up inside of him. God, she was just so lovely. Her blasted real boyfriend better appreciate every single second he got to spend with her after she went home and Fitz was reduced to subsisting on the crumbs of long distance phone calls and interagency collaboration requests. 

“Fitz!” a familiar voice called. “Jemma!”

Fitz glanced over his shoulder, spotting Brad and George. He reluctantly let his hand slip from Jemma’s waist as they turned, putting their backs to the water. “Hey,” he replied. 

“Nope.” Brad shook his head. “Don’t move.” 

Fitz froze, and he felt Jemma stiffen beside him as he watched Brad pull something from his shorts pocket. Christ, were they the worst undercover agents in history, spending all that time with George and Brad and not realizing the two men were Russian spies? Jemma’s hand closed around Fitz’s wrist as his eyes darted around for some kind of weapon. He could push her off the boat and into the water, she’d be all right, but he’d need a distraction and…

“Say cheese!” Brad held up his phone and George gave them a thumbs-up over his husband’s shoulder. 

“Oh my god,” Jemma gasped quietly, sagging against Fitz and leaning her forehead on his shoulder. Her grip on his wrist relaxed and he wrapped both arms around her for support as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Bloody hell,” he murmured, trying to hide his nerves by pressing a kiss to the top of Jemma’s head. 

She laughed softly and her hand slid across his abdomen, making him shiver. “I think we should concentrate on making it through this trip before planning the next.” 

“Hey, the camera’s over here,” Brad called. “Come on, one more. Smile!”

Fitz obediently pasted on a smile, not releasing his hold on Jemma as George peered at Brad’s phone screen and laughed. “There it is, the one you can actually share without people wanting to murder you both.” 

Jemma flinched, and Fitz tightened his arms around her, his nose nudging her temple and his lips skimming her ear. “We’re alright, Jemma, I…” He trailed off, staring at a man who’d come into view just behind George and Brad. 

“Very nice,” Brad said approvingly. He started tapping on his phone. “I’ll send them to you. Everyone should have some photos from a vacation as memorable as this.” He shot them a wink, but Fitz couldn’t be bothered to wonder what Brad was going on about as he wracked his brain for an explanation as to why the stranger he’d spotted looked so familiar. 

“Fitz,” Jemma whispered. “Did you see…” she trailed off. 

“Who is he?” he murmured.

Jemma shook her head and his pulse kicked up a notch as she straightened her shoulders and stepped away from him, reaching back to clasp his hand. “Thanks, guys. I think we’re going to go try those daiquiris now, right Fitz?” 

“Er, right.” He followed Jemma across the deck as they headed for the spot where they’d last seen the strangely familiar man. “Jemma…”

“I know him,” she whispered excitedly, dragging Fitz down a narrow bit of decking alongside an enclosed room. “His profile is in our background materials. Did you see where he went?”

Fitz sucked in a breath, his fingers tightening around Jemma’s. All the mission tactics they’d drilled into his head during field training were eclipsed by the overwhelming desire to keep Jemma safe. Not that he would say that out loud, since he didn’t fancy another argument like the one they’d had before he’d been shot at in the hallway. Her safety hinged on their cover, so that’s what he needed to concentrate on right now. He had to focus. 

On making sure everyone knew Jemma was his girlfriend. 

Something in his shoulders unknotted. That, he could do. Fitz pulled Jemma flush against him, making her stumble for a second. He pressed a kiss to her temple as she steadied herself with a hand against his chest, her expression confused. He wondered if she could feel his heart racing. 

“Fitz?”

He peered over the top of her head and through the windows into the room where the snack bar was located. It was nearly deserted except for one bored-looking teenager leaning against the counter and a smattering of guests. Fitz nuzzled against Jemma’s neck, breathing her in as he surveyed the room again. Her arm curled around his shoulders and he nipped at the soft skin just under her ear, tasting salt and Jemma. She made a tiny noise of surprise, her fingers digging into his skin. 

There. The man emerged from one of the restrooms, his expression sour. He looked around and headed for the back of the room and a set of doors that led to the deck. “Got him,” Fitz whispered.

“Okay,” she responded, her voice soft and low. He felt her take a deep breath, her breasts pressing against him. “Where…?” 

The man pulled open the doors and Fitz somehow managed to separate himself from Jemma, though he kept his arm looped around her waist. She was staring at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. “Come on.” Fitz crept along the deck with Jemma tucked against his side, their bare feet making almost no noise.

“I think,” Jemma whispered, her breath washing over his skin and making him shiver, “his name is Popov. Or maybe Petrov.”  

They were nearly at the back of the boat, Fitz could see a stairwell that led up to the top deck with the bar, and, on the other side of it, the man was pacing with a phone in a white-knuckled grip held against his ear. Fitz could hear just enough of the conversation to know it wasn’t in English. “You speak Russian?” 

Jemma nodded. “Enough, I think,” she said quietly. “I hope.” 

He hid a smile against her damp hair. Knowing Jemma, that probably meant she wasn’t yet able to argue scientific theories, but he’d bet her vocabulary was already well beyond some Russian thug’s. The man was gazing out at the sea and barking into his phone. “Hang on.” Fitz hugged her close and propelled her backwards across the exposed section of deck between them and a tiny alcove under the stairwell. Boxes with colorful pictures depicting lifejackets were piled under it and, if they were lucky, would hide them from the Russian’s view.

Jemma squeaked, clinging to his shoulders and trying keep up. Fitz kept his eyes trained on the Russian and concentrated on getting close enough to overhear the conversation, praying the guy wouldn’t turn around. After what felt like an eternity, he and Jemma were squeezed into the tiny space under the stairwell, flush against one another. 

They were both breathing heavily. One of Fitz’s hands had slid down to keep the lifejacket box edges from digging into Jemma’s skin, and now he had a handful of her bum, which was really rather distracting. He licked his lips and fought to keep his cock under control. He was supposed to be professional spy for god’s sake. “Can you…” His voice faltered as Jemma shifted, lifting up on her tiptoes and causing his hand to slide down even further. She hooked her chin over his shoulder and shushed him. 

“He’s missed something,” Jemma murmured into Fitz’s ear, her lips grazing his skin. Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate on the harsh Russian whispers rather than what Jemma’s nearness was doing to his libido. “There was supposed to be a meeting, I think. He…” She paused. “That was quite a colloquialism. They’re arranging a new time.” He could hear the excitement rising in her voice, her arms tightening around his neck. “They’re meeting tomorrow afternoon, somewhere on the other side of the island. Today’s drop was messed up. They must have a boat, Fitz, that’s why we haven’t seen them at the hotel. Hang on, he says…oh no.” she said, her tone dropping to a horrified whisper

The Russian’s voice rose and then cut off suddenly. Jemma inhaled sharply, her fingers digging into Fitz’s shoulders as she pulled back just far enough for him to catch a glimpse of her worried face. The Russian’s heavy footsteps were heading in their direction, and Fitz did the only thing he could think of. 

He kissed her. 

***

Jemma felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. 

Fitz’s lips were soft and warm and oh god they were pressed against hers and what was she supposed to be doing again? A low whimper escaped her as Fitz shifted slightly, tilting his head for a better angle and gently nibbling her lower lip. 

One of Jemma’s hands slid up to tangle in his hair as she opened her mouth and his tongue slipped inside. The world felt like it was spinning, and the only thing keeping her grounded was the man holding her tight. He tasted like seawater and sunscreen and she was never going to be able to go on holiday again without craving the feel of him pressed against her.

One of his hands was cupping her ass, and she leaned into it, picking up a foot to drag her toes up his bare calf and then wrapping her leg around his hip. He groaned into her mouth, his tongue growing bolder, and the hand on her back moved up to curl into her hair. She could feel his erection pressing against her center and she rocked her hips against him, wanting more. 

Dimly, she was aware of someone exclaiming loudly nearby, but Fitz was tugging her head back and laying sucking kisses down her throat, so she was rather distracted. 

She made a noise of protest as he abruptly stopped kissing her, and then shuddered as he let out what could only be characterized as a growl at whoever was interrupting them. Every part of her was begging for Fitz’s attention, but she tried to focus. There was something…

“Do you mind?” Fitz rasped. “Bit busy here.” His brogue was thick enough it was a miracle the Russian seemed to understand him, though perhaps their positions made it clear enough what he was intruding on. 

Jemma watched the Russian warily out of the corner of her eye as she tried to catch her breath, one finger drawing slow circles on Fitz’s back. The Russian threw up his arms and stomped away as Fitz pulled her against him, tucking her head under his chin. His chest rose and fell against her cheek, his breath slowing as Jemma tried desperately to remind herself that this wasn’t real. 

When she finally trusted herself enough to lift her head without grabbing Fitz and yanking him down for another heated kiss, she found him staring down at her worriedly. “Okay?” he asked, sounding nervous. 

She was still entirely wrapped around him, she realized with a start, abruptly dropping her foot back to the deck and letting of his shoulders. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I…”

“No, Jemma.” He caught one of her hands and clutched it against his chest. “We’re alright?” 

She nodded, her heart sinking at his relieved expression. “Fine,” she said shortly, turning her head before he could see her disappointment. “We should tell the others.” She waited, but he didn’t move. 

“Er,” Fitz shifted, and she realized he was standing rather awkwardly, angling his hips away from her. Her eyes dropped down before she could stop herself and she bit her lip to keep a noise of appreciation from slipping out. “I’m just going to need a few,” he said. 

Dragging her gaze back up from the tented front of his swimtrunks, Jemma sincerely hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “It’s a very natural reaction to stimulation,” she assured him. “I’m quite affected myself.” 

Fitz’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “Okay, that’s…that’s good?”

“Yes, good, right.” Jemma babbled, wondering what the hell had possessed her to tell her colleague how hot he got her. She snapped her mouth shut before she could humiliate herself further. “I’ll just…” She eased past Fitz out of the alcove. “Um, report in, shall I?” 

“Sure.” Fitz was staring at her in a way that she wasn’t quite sure how to interpret, which was quite irksome. She’d gotten good at reading his moods over the last few days, but this was something new. This was almost like...like he didn’t want her to go almost as much as she wanted to stay and see what would happen if she kissed him again.

Jemma hesitated for a moment. “You’re sure?” she asked.

The smile he gave her made her stomach flip like the first time she’d seen mitosis through the lens a microscope. “Yes, Jemma.”

She was utterly done for.


	11. Ka Uila

Something was poking Fitz’s shoulder. He batted a hand at it, but it didn’t go away, so he grabbed the covers, pulled them over his head, and rolled onto his other side.

“Fitz!” a voice hissed.

He mumbled something that he hoped would make the voice stop.

There was a loud sigh. “Fitz, get up, or you’re going to miss breakfast.”

“Huh?” he said, sitting up and looking bleary-eyed towards to voice. Jemma was standing there, arms crossed, looking pretty as a picture in a patterned sundress with her hair pulled back. He blinked.

“Daisy, she’s part of my team, texted me this morning. One of the drones—really brilliant idea, Fitz— followed the man we saw yesterday after he got back to the hotel. He signed up to participate in the trip that’s going out today to visit the active volcanic vent with a stop for shopping on the way back.”

“Huh.”

“We’ve been asked to go along and see who he makes the handoff to, if possible. Here’s some tea.” Jemma placed a steaming mug in his hands and went to sit at the table, her face tipped down as she read something on a tablet.

He took a sip of his tea instead of groaning and hiding under the blankets again. It felt like he’d been asleep for approximately five seconds. Last night had been the worst. After they’d…after she’d seen…they hadn’t spoken any more about their little make-out session. It had saved their asses, but when they’d returned to the hotel room, things had gotten awkward, and they’d ended up not talking much at all about anything. It’d been terrible. Things had become worse when they’d gone to bed to sleep that night, the not quite right air conditioner pinging away—he really needed to fix that—and he realized he couldn’t just cuddle with her anymore.

Instead, he’d laid there, stiff as a board, while she’d done the same thing. He tried running over design schematics in his head, equations, physics theorems, absolutely anything that wasn’t the taste of her mouth, the shape of her under his hands, but he’d failed miserably. All he’d wanted to do was roll over on top of her and confess that he was irrevocably in love with her and beg her to immediately break up with her boyfriend so that she and Fitz could be together forever because he didn’t know how he was supposed to go back to London without her. And then they could get naked, and he could spend as much time with his mouth on her nipples as he wanted.

Fitz put a hand over his eyes and hastily drank the rest of his tea, ignoring the fact that it was still too warm to be gulped.

No longer able to stall, he reluctantly stood and stumbled into the bathroom. He wasn’t quite awake yet, and it wasn’t until he was finished his shower that he’d realized he’d forgotten to get any clothes out of the drawer. 

Towel around his waist, he opened the door a crack. “Uh, Jemma, I forgot to grab my kit before coming in here.”

A hand with a pile of folded clothes with a bottle of sunscreen on top appeared a second later. “I noticed.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled and closed the door. How’d he gotten along all this time without her? He dressed in the clothes she’d picked for him which consisted of lightweight shorts and an Hawaiian shirt that matched her dress.

He had to pinch the bridge of his nose to contain his emotions. She was so thoughtful.

After lathering himself with sunscreen, only because he couldn’t think of excuse to ask her to do it, he exited the bathroom to find Jemma still reading, but now she had a tote bag beside her. “Ready?” she asked, and he nodded.

In the hallway, he couldn’t stand it another second. There’d been too much space between during the night, so he reached out and took Jemma’s hand. He’d been expecting her to stiffen up or even pull hers away, but instead, she pressed her palm to his and intertwined their fingers. He relaxed slightly, at least they could still maintain their cover. Which he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at, Jemma was highly professional. She wouldn’t let an erection compromise the mission.

Fitz opted for a waffle smothered in everything for breakfast, with a pile of berries on top to make Jemma smile. 

“Um, what were you reading about this morning?” he tried as she sat down with her porridge and yogurt.

“I was doing further research about neurotoxins. They have a rather untapped potential—” Jemma paused and looked around. “For applications in our line of work.”

Fitz chewed and nodded. “Agreed. I haven’t had a chance to show you my design. It’s a firearm with a bullet that shatters immediately after cutaneous tissue penetration.”

“That’d be perfect to deliver the toxin.” Her face scrunched up. “But the dose would need to be miniscule.”

“That’s the part I haven’t worked out yet.”

Her eyes let up. “Fitz! I might be able—”

“Hey! If it isn’t my favorite couple!” George’s voice was warm, and Fitz couldn’t help but smile. George had his phone one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. “Brad and I realized we didn’t have your phone numbers so we couldn’t send you the adorable pictures from yesterday, but what if I simply avoid the fuss and do a simple transfer?”

“Yes, of course,” Jemma said, pulling her phone out of the tote while Fitz pulled his out of his pocket. There were a few minutes of button pushing until he had the photos from the day before on his screen. Jemma looked so happy, and actually so did he. It was like they really were on vacation and not a mission. A few more swipes and he had one of the photos set as his lock screen and background.

“Thanks,” he said.

Jemma was still messing with her phone. “Are you and Brad coming on the outing today?” she asked.

“Nah, Brad got too much sun yesterday, so we’re going to stay here, probably hang out at the pool and drink too many mimosas.”

Fitz thought that sounded much better than a sweaty hike to see rocks, even if they were fancy liquid rocks.

“Oh, I hope he feels better,” Jemma said.

“Thank you,” George said. “And I know it’s a tough sell to get symposium guests to the lectures, but there’s a few tomorrow that seem very interesting, including one from Andrew Garner that should be excellent.”

Jemma frowned briefly but then smiled. “We might just do that. Thank you for the heads up.”

George nodded and walked off.

Jemma leaned over the table. “One of my team members has been spending time with Garner. It was a little strange how the other speaker canceled at the last minute. We probably should attend.”

“I wouldn’t actually mind attending some of the presentations. There are a few technology related ones that are cutting edge.”

Jemma smiled, and her knee bumped his under the table.

When breakfast was over, they boarded a bus outside the front entrance of the hotel. Fitz kept an arm around Jemma while she scanned the other guests, confirming in a whisper that the man from the boat yesterday was there.

They followed him onto the bus and sat several rows behind him, and Fitz had to suck in a breath as Jemma leaned her head against his shoulder and put her hand on his knee. Being this close to her was much, much better than the entire night had been. Though how he was supposed to pay attention to anything else but the feel of her palm and the scent of her shampoo was beyond him.

The bus rumbled through city streets, then open farmland, and finally dense tropical vegetation. Jemma talked about everything from Hawaiian history to how emissions from the erupting volcano on the Big Island could make a kind of volcanic smog—vog—that was a health concern for Hawaiians.

Mostly he made noises of agreement when he seemed required to and worked on memorizing every nuance of her while rubbing her bare shoulder.

At last, the bus chugged out of the forest and wound up narrow mountain roads until they reached a gravel parking lot. Fitz was half asleep, Jemma secure under his arm when the bus stopped and the tour guide, a middle aged woman with her greying hair in a bun, stood and launched into a safety spiel, to which he only half listened. Not touching hot lava seemed self-evident.

Their mark exited the bus and immediately pulled out his phone, speaking harshly to someone in Russian as Jemma and Fitz made their way off the bus, blinking at the bright sunlight. There were trees and underbrush surrounding two sides of the small parking lot, and the black gravel crunched beneath their feet. In front of them the trees had been burned away. Black, ropey looking rock covered the ground, having spilled out of a vent that had reactivated on the on the side of the otherwise dormant Koʻolau volcano. 

The man was continuing to bark into his cell phone in Russian.

Fitz nuzzled Jemma’s ear as she leaned into his side. “He’s confirming the time and place with his contact,” she whispered. “It’s a touristy clothing shop. They're paying the kid who’ll be manning the register to look the other way.”

The guy finished his call and punched the end button before striding over to a flimsy looking temporary safety railing that was beside a deep fissure that cut through the rock. 

Since they were in the middle of nowhere, it was unlikely he’d just disappear, but they’d still have to keep an eye on him in case a car showed up to whisk him off.  

The other tourists milled around while the tourist guide stood by the railing and talked about the volcanic activity. It was all very basic geology 101 information, and Fitz tuned it out. The real star of the show was the pool of lava that was at the bottom of the fissure. It was well below them, but not so far that the heat radiating from it wasn’t enough to make him sweat. A black crust of cooled rock covered most of the top, but there were cracks through which the molten lava, glowing red-hot, could be seen.

There was the faint hint of sulfur in the air.

The lava lake was magnificent, and a bit frightening. So much power and energy just beneath the surface. Fitz clamped his hand tightly on Jemma’s hip as she leaned over the safety rail.

“Look, Fitz!” she said, excitedly pointing part way up the hill behind the fissure. “Do you see? There’s a ledge with a vent, and I’m certain it’s going to erupt.”

The tourist guide frowned, and turned around, putting a hand over her eyes.

There was a tremor, the ground shaking under their feet enough to make Fitz grab Jemma around the middle and haul her back against him, and the other tourists to mumble in excitement.

“It’s alright,” she soothed, though she made no move to get out of his embrace. “And there we are.”

Lava shot up into the air, the initial explosion quickly settling down into a fountaining rooster tail of molten basalt. 

Jemma’s excitement was contagious, and when she said something about heat attenuation, it flipped a switch in his brain. That was something he knew about. They discussed the effect of heat and compression on volatile gases and watched nature put on a show. She never stepped away, and he didn’t budge either, except to press lingering kisses to her neck while she was talking, until it was time to leave.

On the bus, she pulled out a bag of dried apricots and handed him another bag of trail mix, this one appropriately containing dried tropical fruit along with the nuts and chocolate.

“In case we don’t have time to get lunch,” she whispered.

In town, the bus parked, and the tourists filed off.

Jemma led him to the right store, a hole-in-the-wall place tucked between to more ostentatious tourist traps.  It was filled with racks of cheap shirts and swimwear. There was no one behind the counter when they went into the dim interior, but there was a clatter from the back.

Jemma immediately giggled and turned to press her mouth to his. “Honey, I don’t know about this,” she said with another giggle.

He was so startled at the honey, he almost missed what she was playing at, but he quickly caught on when her eyes darted significantly to the rear of the store. He put a hand on the small of her back. “Can’t wait for the hotel, you’re too bloody gorgeous.”

Jemma’s eyes widened and she moaned softly, kissing him again as she walked backwards and tugged him along to the alcove where the changing rooms were. Pushing him into the first one, she immediately followed, ending up with her back against his front. The bell over the door chimed a few seconds later.

****

Jemma was trembling. It was very probable someone knew they were in the store.

Fitz’s arms were around her, and he hugged her tight. “It’s alright,” he whispered. There was thankfully no mirror in the tiny changing room because Jemma was certain she didn’t want to see the mix of fear and desire that was on her face.

Since kissing him after snorkeling yesterday, she’d hardly been able to think about anything else, and now she was alone with him, their bodies close, and if she wasn’t terrified they were about to be looking down the barrel of a gun again, she would have been in heaven. Not cuddling all night had been torture--she’d barely slept--but she hadn’t wanted to impose on Fitz after…well, not after. He had to be upset with her and how she’d gotten carried away yesterday, but he’d been too professional to show it as they’d played tourist. Sharing the bus ride and the time at the volcano with him had been wonderful.

“Ivanov!” the man they’d been following all day exclaimed.

“Hush, we’re not alone,” the other man, presumably Ivanov, said in Russian. “A couple came in here a moment ago.” Jemma translated it all for Fitz.

The first man snorted. “British couple? Scottish man and English woman?”

“Yes,” Ivanov said.

“Where are they now?”

“In the changing room.”

The first man chuckled. “Pay them no mind; they’ll be too busy to worry about us.”

Jemma continued to translate and added, “Ivanov is a common name, but there was a man in the files with that surname.”

“I remember,” Fitz said.

“Let me peek.” She leaned forward, teasing aside the curtain that served as a door for the changing room. There wasn’t enough room for Fitz to move back and as a result, her rear ended up right against him. He groaned as his palms settled on her hips, but she didn’t have time to think about that as she caught sight of Ivanov. It was the right man! “It’s him,” she hissed as she let the curtain drop back into place. “The one from the mission report.”

“See?” the first man said. “Those two are—”

Oh dear, she wasn’t translating that.

“He says we’re honeymooners,” she reported instead. “Only interested in each other.” It wasn’t even close to the colorful colloquialism the man actual used, which she wasn’t sure was something anyone ever did in reality.  

“Fine, they can enjoy each other in peace while we talk,” Ivanov said.

“It’d probably be best if we occasionally, uh, supplied noises, so they won’t suspect anything,” Jemma whispered to Fitz.

“Er…” he trailed off. “Not sure…”

She didn’t know what to do exactly either. “They should sound natural, not like a porno track.”

“I suppose.” His thumbs tapped against her . She wanted to give a moan or say something, or do anything, but she hadn’t prepared to make fake sex noises, and it’d been long enough that she wasn’t entirely sure she remembered how to make real sex noises, and she should probably do anything besides just stand there.

“Fitz, I’m not sure I can sound right.” She didn’t want to go all  _ When Harry Met Sally _ .

“Maybe…maybe I can help,” his voice was husky. She didn’t know what he meant until his hands moved, one gliding up toward her breasts and the other moving down and slowly starting to gather up the skirt of her dress. The temperature in the tiny changing room became abruptly much warmer as Fitz’s lips pressed against her neck. With her skirt hiked up, he traced his fingers up the inside of her thigh.

She trembled as a different kind of heat pooled in her belly.

“Is this okay, Jemma?” he asked, his hands hovering over her breast and mons.

“Yes,” she whispered. It was absolutely okay. 

Fitz’s breath hitched, and then he was touching her, cupping her breast while he simultaneously skimmed over the cotton of her knickers. Her hips jerked forward, and she bit off a moan as her head fell back against his shoulder.

She was on fire.

Blindly, she tilted her head towards Fitz, and his mouth found hers. Which wasn’t exactly necessary to their subterfuge, but she couldn’t find the strength to stop kissing him when she so badly wanted to.

Her nipples ached, and she mewled louder than she meant to when Fitz’s hand found one and plucked at it. He groaned in response and rubbed harder at the front of her knickers before pausing to nudge at her thigh. She spread her legs to give him better access, and his fingers splayed over her crotch.

“You’re wet,” he mumbled against her lips, sounding awed.

“More,” she managed to say as she braced a hand on the wall and rolled her pelvis. She was aware this was rather a huge line they were crossing. If she’d been a decent field agent, she could probably have made fake sex noises all day without needing some kind of stimulation.

Only…ugh, his touches were quickly becoming not enough.

Fitz was petting her through her underwear, but she wanted…needed…

As if he’d read her mind, he hooked the side of her panties. She whimpered.

“Jemma?” Fitz rasped.

“Yes, yes!” she cried. There was a chuckle from the Russians, but she only caught a few words of what they said next. They were talking about a series of pictures that sounded like they were of the Stark Industries device, but then Fitz’s clever fingers were on her pussy, and she couldn’t possibly translate another word. Or told someone her name.

He took a startled breath as his hand met bare skin. After thoroughly exploring, he stroked her gently between the lips of her sex with a single fingertip, paused, then pressed inside her vagina. She moaned, but it turned into a whimper as he withdrew, leaving her empty. She tried to follow his hand, craving him, but in another heartbeat he was back, thrusting two fingers deep into her channel.

Jemma no longer cared that this wasn’t something you did with your coworker, or that two Russian agents were in the next room, or that Fitz had a girl waiting on him at home. 

None of that mattered. The world had become the size of the changing room cubicle, and she and Fitz were the only people in all of existence.

He slid his fingers in and out of her while his mouth remained glued to hers. She parted her lips, and his tongue invaded her mouth. She sucked at it and was rewarded by his fingers moving harder and faster inside her.

“God, Jemma,” he growled, and his hand left her breast to wrap around her middle and pull her back against him. He was hard. It was just a normal, biological response to stimulation, she tried to remind herself, like she had told him on the boat, but that reasoning was pushed to the side at the sheer joy of feeling how aroused he was by her.

Fitz was thrusting against her rear, and his hand on her pussy shifted slightly so that his palm was against her clit, giving her something to rub against. His mouth was plastered to hers, and he was snogging her like there was no tomorrow.

He tasted so good, felt so good, sounded so good, as he grunted raggedly. It didn’t take long before Jemma was right at the edge of falling into bliss. Was she supposed to get off? Was it okay to come?

Then she didn’t have a choice. She grasped Fitz’s arms as her orgasm crashed into her. She was making a high pitched noise, keening out her pleasure as Fitz continued to plunge his fingers into her. He was still rolling his hips against her when she sagged in his arms, spent. He pulled his hand away from her body, and she wanted to grab his wrist and return his fingers to her body. They were magic, and she wasn’t sure she was ever going to be the same again.

“Jemma,” he said roughly. She twisted around to face him just in time to see him stick the fingers he’d been using to pleasure her into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he sucked on them, making a rather delighted-sounding noise as he did so. It was erotic and confusing because she’d thought he was simply helping her through her ineptness. Though he did tend to want to experience things with his mouth, and he was affected by what they’d been doing. She glanced down at the way his cock was pushing out the front of this shorts. Quite affected. And there was no way she could leave him like that, not again, not after the way he’d just made her feel. Not with the way he was still making her feel as he moaned his enjoyment of her taste.

Her hands went to the front of his shorts. “Shall I?” she asked, biting her lips as she waited for an answer.

Fitz cracked open his eyes, then looked down at how she was gripping his trousers. “Please,” he said, voice deep and rough. The word felt like victory. He wanted her. At that moment he was thinking of no one but her. Hands trembling slightly, she undid the snap and lowered the zip, pushing his trousers and pants down just far enough to free his cock.

It was quite lovely, and it jerked slightly as she wrapped her palm around it.

“Jemma,” Fitz hissed. She stroked a few times, paused to spit in her palm, then returned to running her fist up and down his length.

After a few moments, he placed a hand around hers, tightening her grip and increasing the speed at which she was moving. Fitz was showing her how he liked to get off. Letting go, he cupped her cheek, then pressed forward, kissing her again.

Her pussy pulsed hard with renewed lust. She wanted his cock inside her, wanted so much more, to know everything about how he would make love to her. To show him how she liked being on top, experiment with him until they found all the ways they fit together best and perfect those.

The sounds, of her hand on his cock and his low moans, were intoxicating. The way his tongue was faltering as it stroked hers was mesmerizing.

His hips started bucking, and he groaned loudly, interrupting their kiss.

“Jemma, I’m going to—” He broke off and moaned. His eyes were closed tightly, and his brows drawn together. He looked almost pained.

She glanced down, not stopping the motion of her hand, but wanting to see his cock as he came. It was impossibly hard in her fist.

“Jemma!” Fitz barked. His cock spasmed, and his come was a warm rush over her hand and wrist. He collapsed against the wall of the changing room, hips still erratically pumping.

She was inordinately proud of reducing the sexiest man she’d ever met to jello.  

****

Fitz was certain he must be dreaming, because Jemma giving him a hand job in a changing room really wasn’t something he’d believed would ever happen.

She let go of his prick, and he cracked his eye open just in time to watch the tip of her tongue dart out and lick through the come on her hand. She made a pleased little hum that was one of the sexiest noises he’d ever heard.

Ruddy hell, he was in heaven and Jemma an angel. 

The kind that made delighted sounds over jizz. Okay, he really was far past rational reality. Though he’d known that the second he’d asked to touch her under her knickers and she’d agreed. Knowing she was shaved bare between her legs was going to mess with his mind for all of eternity.

“Oh, I have tissues,” Jemma said brightly. Of course she would. She ducked down and retrieved them from her tote bag, wiping off her hand and then his cock, which made him whimper. “All clean.” She tucked the tissues into a ziplock bag she’d probably bought with the purpose of it being for trash, and started smoothing down her dress.

He managed to pull up his pants and trousers. The fastenings were difficult to manage because for some reason he seemed to have become all thumbs. Jemma peeked out of the curtain again.

“They’re gone,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “I sort of missed when that happened.”

“Uh, me too,” he mumbled.

They made their way back to the bus, sharing a bottle of water from Jemma’s bag. It was only slightly warm.

His fingers had been inside her. He’d felt her fly apart in his arms. How was he supposed to ever let her go now?

On the bus, their mark caught his eye as they passed and winked at him. Fitz managed to smile and give the guy a thumbs up before sinking into the seat beside Jemma. She put her head on his shoulder and yawned.

Fitz was still dazed. He couldn’t believe…maybe now she’d…

Jemma’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out, frowning at the screen as she quickly started texting. The first inklings of guilt tickled the back of Fitz’s brain. Was she texting her boyfriend? Her husband? Her frown deepened, and his stomach turned to lead and sunk.

She wasn’t happy. For whatever reason, she’d done what she had with Fitz, but now she was wishing she hadn’t, if the grimace on her face was any indication. She’d been vulnerable, and he’d pushed her too far. Jemma was going to hate him for making her cheat on her significant other.

She’d just needed to make a few noises, not actually get off. 

His world came crashing down. Jemma was going to think him a pervert and a homewrecker. He shifted, sitting right on the edge of his seat and jiggling his knee as the bus pulled up in front of the hotel.

“I need to go debrief my team, yeah?” he said to her in a low voice.

Jemma looked up at him, still frowning. “S-sure, okay. Me too. I’ll see you back in our room.”

“Right.” He stood and pecked her on the forehead before he hastened down the aisle and off the bus, nearly running to Hunter and Mack’s room.

Fitz knocked, and Hunter opened the door. “How’d the date go?”

Fitz knew he probably looked like he was about to cry because he felt like he was. He stepped into the room and put a hand on Hunter’s arm. “I’m in hell, and I think Jemma hates me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Quick Notes
> 
> 1) We realized that most of you aren't that familiar with our plotting, so I (sunalso) promise this is not the point they go pout in separate corners for another five chapters. *smooshes them together*
> 
> 2) I (still sun!) have a degree in geology and am well aware no such volcanic fissure exists on the island of Oahu, but for narrative purposes, it didn't make sense to have a trip to the Big Island, so I exercised artistic license. This was also plotted/written prior to Mount Kīlauea's non-metaphorical eruption, and our heart goes out to all Hawaiian residents affected by that natural disaster.


	12. Makalapua

“You told her the monkey joke, didn’t you?” Hunter said.

“What? No!” Fitz pressed a hand to his chest, feeling like iron bands were squeezing his heart. He’d completely ruined everything with Jemma, all because he’d lost his head the moment she’d given him permission to touch her.

“Popped off too soon?” Hunter lifted his eyebrows. “Come on, mate, you know the drill for that one. Tell her she’s entirely too gorgeous and distract her with some decent…”

“Hunter!” Fitz practically shouted, feeling like his entire world was crumbling. Jemma hated him, and he was going to end up back home in his lonely flat in London knowing she never wanted to see him again.

“Hey, didn’t we leave the drones in the bathroom?” someone else asked.

Fitz blinked and spotted Mack coming in from the balcony. His shoulders sagged in relief. “Mack,” he croaked.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Hunter said.

“Why don’t you grab them for Fitz,” Mack replied.

Hunter let out an exasperated sigh and headed for the bathroom. “You know, just because you’ve got seniority doesn’t mean you can order me about all the time.”

Fitz watched in confusion as Mack followed Hunter across the room, snagging a desk chair along the way. As Hunter disappeared into the bathroom, Mack pushed the door closed and neatly tucked the chair under the knob before plopping down to sit in it. “Actually, that’s exactly what it means,” he said loud enough to carry through the closed door.

“Hey!” Hunter exclaimed, his voice muffled. Something banged against the bathroom door, but Mack didn’t move.

“What’s going on, man?” Mack asked, his voice low and calm as he eyed Fitz. “I thought you two were working well together?”

“We are, we were,” Fitz said miserably, sinking down to sit on the end of an unmade bed. “Until I just ruined everything.”

Mack frowned. “You missed the drop?”

“No, we were there. The mark met with a man named Ivanov.” He could hear Jemma’s voice translating the conversation in his ear, still feel the heat of her pressed against him. He missed her already and he’d never even really had her.

“The Russians made you?”

“No, they think we’re tourists.” Fitz dropped his head onto his hands. “Honeymooning tourists,” he mumbled.

“I’m not seeing the problem.” Mack said, sounding slightly amused.

“I messed up with Jemma, Mack. Got…carried away.” Fitz lifted his head. “I…we…there was a changing room and we had to pretend we were, you know, too occupied to listen to their conversation, and then we…we were actually occupied.”

“You dirty dog!” Hunter crowed from the bathroom. “I knew you had it in you!”

Mack slammed one fist against the bathroom door, making Hunter yelp. “This girl’s got you all tied up in knots,” Mack said, his expression sympathetic. “Obviously you’re into her, so if she’s into you, what’s the problem?”

“I’m sending some videos!” Hunter called. Fitz’s phone began pinging in his pocket. “Don’t worry, there’s all kinds of public places you two can go at it if she’s into that sort of thing.”  

“She’s got a boyfriend!” Fitz scrubbed a hand anxiously through his hair, trying desperately to ignore his phone and all the idiotic ideas now flitting through his brain. He was positive Jemma wouldn’t want to do anything with him where they’d first almost-kissed in the grotto by the pool, or in a stopped lift, or down the beach past where the luau had been.  “And I’ve just made her cheat on him. I would want to kill me!” The thought of Jemma with another man, gazing up at him the way she’d looked at Fitz in that changing room when she’d wrapped her hand around his cock, made him want to break something.

“Uh,” Mack said, his brow furrowing. “Look, about that boyfriend, are you sure she has one?”

“I saw a picture of her with another guy on her phone!”

“Okay, but have you actually asked her about him?” Mack said patiently.

Fitz paused. “No.”  

“Oh, wait until you see this one, goddamn genius,” Hunter said loudly. Fitz’s phone pinged again.

“Maybe you should ask.” Mack got up from the chair and grabbed it, swinging it back into place by the desk. He turned, giving Fitz a serious, searching look. “We need you both to stay focused, so go work things out with her, alright?”

“But…”

Mack put a hand on his shoulder. “Fitz, we’re all relying on you two right now. Trust me. Talk to her.”

Fitz nodded slowly. “Talk to her,” he repeated.

He’d get down on his knees and beg if that’s what it would take to keep Jemma from hating him forever.

Hunter banged on the bathroom door. “Hey, are you guys going to let me out?”

***

“Daisy!” Jemma pounded on the room door, blinking back tears.

“Jemma?” Daisy opened the door and yanked her inside. “What’s going on? I just saw the bus pull up and your boyfriend take off like his hair was on fire.”

The tears Jemma was trying to hold back spilled over. “Fitz is not my boyfriend,” she managed between sniffles. “And now I’ve completely ruined everything.”

“It’s okay,” Daisy said soothingly, wrapping an arm around Jemma’s shoulders and guiding her over to sit on the end of one bed. “What happened?”

“I shouldn’t have done it! Oh god, Fitz hates me. And now Agent Coulson’s arranged a dinner for the three of us! How am I supposed to face him when I’ve made a mess of everything?” 

“Jemma, focus, tell me what happened.” Daisy peered at her, her expression serious. “Was it the Russians?”

“What? Oh, no, they met up as we suspected and they’re definitely after the Stark device. The second man is named Ivanov.” Jemma got her tears under control and wiped at her face impatiently. “But while Fitz and I were hiding, we had to pretend to be, um, busy with one another and I was worried about making the proper noises without sounding like a complete idiot so Fitz…helped.”

Daisy pressed her lips together, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile. “Oh no, how terrible.” She sat down beside Jemma on the bed. “By doing what, exactly?”

Jemma felt herself flush. “He…used his hand. On me. Down there.”

Daisy let out a squeal. “Oh my god, Jemma! You’ve seriously let out your wild side this week, You’re totally head over heels, aren’t you?”

“That’s exactly the problem!”

“You’ve lost me.”

“He was just trying to help because I’m apparently inept at field work and instead I got too caught up and after I…well, you know, I thought it would be nice to return the favor and so I…” Jemma gestured helplessly as Daisy’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

“You didn’t!”

Jemma nodded, feeling absolutely wretched. She’d completely crossed a line and taken advantage of Fitz’s arousal in order to satisfy her own ego like some kind of sex-crazed maniac.

“And he…didn’t like it?” Daisy asked hesitantly.

“Well, no, he seemed to like it at the time. But that’s just it, isn’t it? I’m only the pretend girlfriend, and after we’ve completed our objective here he’ll be heading home to some Amazonian goddess who’ll want to kill me for touching him like that!” 

“Uh, Jemma-”

“I would absolutely kill me for doing that with Fitz if he were my boyfriend, even if we’d been pretending, which I really wasn’t, even though I’m supposed to be.” 

Daisy furrowed her brow before shaking her head. “Okay, I’m not even attempting to untangle that one. Jemma, seriously, I think you and Fitz need to talk.”

“We talk all the time.” Jemma replied, confused. 

Daisy snorted. “About how you feel,” she clarified.

Jemma clutched handfuls of her dress in her fists. “How I feel?” she squeaked, horrified.

“And then tell him you want to be his Amazonian goddess girlfriend.”

“Weren’t you listening? He already has one.” 

“You don’t actually know that, Jemma. Aren’t you the one always telling me to gather all the facts before drawing conclusions?”

Jemma opened her mouth but couldn’t figure out how to argue with her own very sound advice.

Daisy patted her leg. “Good luck. Now go talk to him while I finish going through all the info we got off the drones, and if you see May, tell her Coulson’s looking for her.”

“She isn’t answering her phone?”

“She was keeping tabs on you two until you were heading back to the hotel, and then she said she had a lead to follow up on and went dark.” Daisy stood up and stretched. “And stop stalling. Go talk to him.” She gave Jemma a bright smile. “You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Jemma sighed and tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest. As long as Fitz forgave her for getting carried away, she’d have to be content. She couldn’t expect anything more than that.

***

Taking a deep breath, Jemma stared nervously at the door of the hotel room she shared with Fitz.

The facts, Daisy had reminded her. Jemma needed to focus on the facts. She and Fitz had a job to do, and even if her feelings had run away with her it didn’t mean that they couldn’t still complete their mission. She just needed to pull herself together, apologize to Fitz for overstepping her bounds, and try not to lose her head the next time he was helping her sell their fake relationship to the bad guys.

That last one was really going to be the problem. Daisy was right, Jemma was head over heels. Her heart never had been the most logical of organs.

“Focus, Jemma,” she whispered.

Swiping her key card, she entered the room and stopped short. Fitz was sitting on the side of the bed, facing the door, his head in his hands. The door clicked closed behind her and he looked up, meeting her eyes. For a long moment the only sound was the air conditioner sputtering under the window. His hair was a mess and his expression was worried and she’d never wanted to kiss anyone more in her entire life.

Jemma wondered inanely if he could hear how hard her heart was pounding in her chest as she struggled to form words. “Um, hello, Fitz,” she finally got out.

“Hello,” he said, sounding absolutely miserable. A heavy stone settled into Jemma’s stomach.

“Look,” she began.

“Jemma, I...”

They both stopped, and another long silence filled the room. The air conditioner wheezed.

Jemma steeled herself and tried again. “Fitz, I just wanted to apologize—”

Fitz shot to his feet. “What? No, you don’t have to apologize for—”

“—for putting you in that position. I shouldn’t have done it, and—”

“—anything! It was entirely my fault and I never meant for things to go—”

“—I promise I won’t get carried away like that again, Fitz. I’m really sorry if it puts you in an awkward spot—”

“—so far. I swear, Jemma, I’d never want to mess things up for you and—”

“—with your girlfriend. Can you forgive me?”

“—your boyfriend. Husband. Whatever.” Fitz frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Who?” Jemma said, bewildered.

“What girlfriend?” Fitz asked. “You?”

“No, your real girlfriend, Fitz! And what boyfriend?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking confused. “DJ?” he said.

“Her name’s DJ?” Jemma felt something inside her crack apart. “Oh, that’s…nice. Like Daisy.” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Except I know it’s not Daisy because she would have told me. It’s not though, right?”

“DJ is Daisy?” Fitz blinked at her and then held up a hand. “Wait, we’ll get back to that in a second. I don’t have a girlfriend, Jemma.”

Jemma drew in a breath and stared at Fitz. “You don’t?” He took a step towards her and shook his head. He seemed to be waiting for something else, but her head felt like it was packed with cotton and the shirt she’d picked for him this morning really brought out the blue in his eyes. It was quite distracting.

“If DJ is Daisy,” Fitz said quietly. “Who’s the guy on your phone?”

“My phone?” Jemma repeated, fidgeting nervously with one strap of her sundress. “The picture with Trip and Daisy, you mean? When did you see that? He used to work with us.”

“Oh.” Fitz’s expression was glum. “And I just was plugging in your phone, I wasn’t trying to be nosy. Remind me to tweak the battery in it for you later. They seriously restrict those damn things for the consumer market.”

Something finally clicked in Jemma’s brain. “Oh! Oh, no, Fitz. Trip’s just a friend of mine, he’s not my boyfriend. Or husband. You really thought I might be married?” 

Fitz took another step in her direction as the air conditioner rattled and shut off. “Yeah.” Fitz said, a red flush rising from the collar of his shirt. “I guess it was hard to imagine someone not wanting to marry you. But you’re not?”

Jemma was beginning to feel a bit overheated. “No,” she said breathlessly. “I’m just…um, me. By myself,” she tried to elaborate, wincing at how ridiculous she sounded.

“Me too,” Fitz said, his hand reaching out to graze her hip. Jemma leaned into his touch, her whole body swaying in his direction.

She jumped as her phone went off, followed immediately by Fitz’s. She dug into her tote, inhaling deeply and letting it out as slowly as possible before answering and praying she sounded normal. She heard Fitz answer his phone and followed suit.

“Yes?”

“Jemma!” Daisy exclaimed. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but we’ve seriously got something here. Grab your hot nerd and bring him to my room, okay?”

Jemma made eye contact with Fitz, who was presumably talking to one of his team members. He smiled at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. “We’ll be right there.”

“Great. See you in a minute.” Daisy ended the call and Jemma tucked her phone back in her tote as Fitz came to stand beside her.

“Hey, Mack said you’d know where to go. They might have found something.”

“That’s what Daisy said, too.”

“Guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” Fitz opened the door and she reluctantly followed him into the hall. Something between them had shifted, but there wasn’t time for her to figure out exactly where they stood. He didn’t hate her, that was the important thing for the moment. Fitz took her hand and she gratefully laced their fingers together. “Lead the way.”

***

“Guys!” A dark-haired girl said excitedly when she answered the hotel room door Jemma had knocked on. “Get in here, I think we’re onto something.”

Fitz nodded at Hunter and Mack as he reluctantly released Jemma’s hand and let his palm rest on the small of her back for a moment. Hunter gave him an embarrassingly obvious wink and a thumbs up that Mack promptly smacked down, making Hunter curse under his breath as he shook out his hand. Jemma, thank god, hadn’t seemed to notice a thing.

“I’m Daisy,” the girl said. “You must be Fitz. Guys, this is Jemma. Jemma, Mack and Hunter. Okay, intros over, check this out!” She spun a laptop around so they could all view the screen, which was a series of snapshots of what looked like a sheet of paper.

Fitz squinted at the dark image. “Are those numbers?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Daisy made a series of quick adjustments to the photo, brightening it considerably. “Hey, Jems, can you grab that other computer?”

“I hate working with just one monitor.” Fitz frowned at the screen. “What do you think, coordinates?”

“I miss the Bus,” Daisy sighed. “You should see the setup I have there. We’ve even got a holotable.”

“Yeah?” Fitz said interestedly. He’d been trying to convince the department head at MI6 they’d needed one of those since he’d started, but the man was as old as Methuselah and just about as tech-savvy, so Fitz’s pleading had fallen on deaf ears.

“I miss my lab, too,” Jemma said, handing her friend the other laptop with a smile. “But don’t worry. We’ll be back on board before you know it.”

Her words struck deep, the pain echoing through Fitz’s chest. All the joy at finding out Jemma wasn’t married or dating anyone was sucked away by the reminder that he still had only a finite amount of time with her. And just because she’d slipped into his life like the missing pieces of a puzzle didn’t mean she felt the same way. 

“And you’re right, Fitz, they look like coordinates.” Daisy pulled up a map on the other laptop, tapping at the keypad.

“Where did you get this?” Jemma asked curiously, peering at the images on the first laptop.

“One of the drones,” Mack said. “After we listened to all the audio and came up with bupkis, we thought we’d take a look at the video feeds. These were tucked into a wall vent in the men’s bathroom down in the event center.”

“Like they’d been left for someone,” Jemma said. She’d come to stand beside Fitz again as they watched Daisy enter the multiple sets of coordinates, her shoulder brushing his. “We never would have found them without your drones, Fitz.”

“Total genius, I’m always telling him that,” Hunter said from behind them. “In fact, I heard he’s especially great at—ow, Mack, that was my foot!” Hunter broke off, hissing. Fitz didn’t dare turn around, praying Jemma would just ignore his supposed friends.

Daisy finished entering the coordinates, and he would swear she was hiding a smile, but maybe she just always looked that happy. “Okay, so most of these aren’t anywhere near here, and there are a couple of weird ones up near the arctic circle, which is a crazy spot for a boat, but look at this one.” She pointed at a blinking spot on her map and zoomed in on it.

“Is that where we were yesterday?” Fitz asked.

“Yes!” Daisy went back to the first computer and flipped through what looked like several camera angles all looking out over a beautiful bay. “Come on, come on,” she muttered. “Look, there’s your snorkeling boat.” She pointed at a distant speck against a field of dazzling blue. “It’s really close to the listed coordinates, but I’m not seeing anything nearby that could survive a trip down from freaking Alaska.” She squinted at the screen. “Damn. I wish we had some pictures from your trip yesterday. Do you remember someone taking a bunch? Maybe we could commandeer them.”

“Um,” Jemma said hesitantly. “Actually, we have some.”

Daisy spun around, staring at Jemma in surprise. “You do?” Her eyes flicked to Fitz for a moment but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Well then, hand ‘em over.”

Jemma pulled her phone out of her bag and Fitz caught sight of her flushed cheeks as she passed it to Daisy. He brushed his knuckles down her arm, knowing he looked absolutely ridiculous in those photos but she had nothing to worry about. She rewarded him with a tiny smile before dropping her eyes to the floor as Daisy plugged the phone into the computer.

“Great, we’ll just…” Daisy pressed her lips together as the phone’s home screen filled the computer monitor, showing blue sky and blue water and, in the foreground, Fitz whispering something into Jemma’s ear as she grinned, her hand splayed across his bare chest. God, she looked gorgeous. A second later, it finally clicked that Jemma had set a picture of them as her phone background. He darted a look at her, but she was avoiding his eyes.

Hunter made a choking sound behind them and Mack cleared his throat loudly as Daisy found the image folder and pulled up the rest of the snorkeling pictures.

“Okay, first I’m just going to state the obvious,” Daisy said. Fitz’s heart plummeted to his shoes as he stared at his own smitten face and braced himself for humiliation. There was no way anyone in the room could miss the way he was gazing at Jemma like a complete sap. “You guys are freaking adorable. You are way selling the whole couple thing. It totally looks real.”

This time Mack made an odd, choking noise.

“Aren’t we supposed to be looking for another boat?” Jemma said, her voice a little higher than normal.

Fitz tried to school his features into an expression of polite interest as Daisy started fiddling with the first image, grinning. “Yeah, okay, hang on. Let’s see, if your boat was here and the coordinates are there,” she trailed off and started enlarging a portion of the image just over Jemma’s shoulder. Fitz couldn’t look away from the Jemma in the photo as her face filled the screen. She was looking up at him like…like she had earlier today, flushed and dazed from the orgasm he’d given her, just before she’d fulfilled his unspoken desires like she could read his mind. He wanted to haul the real Jemma into his arms to kiss her senseless right there, and, if the photos were any indication, she might just let him.

“Can you make it less blurry? I’m not seeing anything but a hell of a lot of blue,” Hunter said.

“This isn’t CSI, Hunter,” Daisy replied, frowning at the pixelated image. “It’s a cell phone picture, not a freaking Ansel Adams.”

“I’m no expert, but I don’t think there’s anything there,” Mack said doubtfully.

Daisy switched to a different photo—this one showing Jemma and Fitz looking towards the camera, their arms still wrapped around each other. In the photo, Jemma’s head was resting against his shoulder, and she looked so content Fitz couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and sliding his fingertips down the forearm of the Jemma in the here and now, seeking her hand. Her palm was warm against his, but he felt her shiver as he entwined their fingers. It was hard to focus on anything but the way she tightly clasped his hand, holding on like she never wanted to let go.

“Didn’t they miss that drop?” Hunter said. “So maybe the boat wasn’t there.”

“No,” Jemma said suddenly. “He said the drop didn’t go as planned because he wasn’t a circus seal. I didn’t understand at the time, but I don’t think that meant the boat wasn’t there, I think he meant he couldn’t dive down that far.”

“It’s not a boat,” Fitz said, catching on. All the coordinates near the arctic suddenly made sense.

“It’s a submarine,” Jemma breathed.

Daisy stared at the unbroken expanse of blue water in the photograph she was examining. “Well, shit.”

“How the hell are we supposed to intercept a submarine?” Mack asked.

“I’ll call Coulson,” Daisy said. “You guys better get back to…oh, you’re way ahead of me.” She beamed at them and it took Fitz a second to realize she was referring to their joined hands. “Great. You two head out and keep,” she waved vaguely in their direction, “being ridiculously cute.”

“Alright,” Jemma said, sounding flustered. “Um, my phone?”

“Oh, sure.” Daisy unplugged the phone and handed it to Jemma. “Are you going down to dinner tonight or can we all hole up and try and figure out this submarine thing?”

“We’ll just order room service,” Fitz said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Hunter cackled and Mack pushed him off the bed. “Great, you guys, uh, be safe. We’ll catch up with you later.”

Fitz supposed he should be wanting to sink through the floor at the evidence that his entire damn team was comprised of transparent jerks claiming to be his friends, but Jemma was trying to hide her smile against his shoulder and he was starting to suspect that she might actually be interested in him. He was pretty sure he was practically floating as he opened the door.

This was the best mission ever. 


	13. Wela

Fitz hoped he wasn’t imagining that Jemma was walking closer to him than normal. She had a hold of his hand again, and her shoulder kept bumping into his, which wasn’t a problem, except that it was distracting and he was worried he was going to end up flat on his face.

He had no idea what he was going to say when he was alone with her. She was the one who’d just mentioned that their time together had an endpoint, so if he fell to his knees the second the door closed behind them and declared his undying love and begged her never to leave him, that might come across a little strong.

He also couldn’t come up with a scenario where he was cool-guy enough to suggest a casual shag.  Being with Jemma would never remotely be casual.

Damn it.

What would Hunter do?

Er, maybe that wasn’t a good line of thought.

“What would you like for dinner?” Jemma asked, swiping her keycard to let them into their room.

Oh, they were there already?

“Um…bloody hell!” They’d walked into a sauna.

Jemma, frowning, went over to the air conditioner and fussed with the controls. She straightened up and crossed her arms. “I think it’s dead.”

Fitz put his hands on his hips and glared at the air conditioner.

“You said you’d fix it,” Jemma said, her face scrunched up.

“We’ve been a bit busy since then.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Should I call maintenance or ask for a new room?”

“We can’t move, the drones are programmed with here as their home base.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Just order me a teriyaki burger and fries, and I’ll fix the stupid thing. Asking strangers in to spend an extended time poking around our room doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“A burger?”

He made a face. “Yes?”

“Oh, fine.”

Jemma dropped her tote on the floor and grabbed a piece of paper to fan herself with as she called room service. She ordered him his burger and fries, adding a side of fruit—which was completely unnecessary, there was pineapple on the burger—and a salad for herself. Fitz pulled out the tools they’d used on the drones and began dissembling the air conditioner, looking for the problem.

An hour later he had the parts set out on the floor, had eaten his dinner, and was trying to keep up with the amount of water Jemma was badgering to get him to drink. The room was muggy, he was sweaty, and Jemma, who was sitting at the table and reading something, looked miserable.

It wasn’t how he’d hoped the night would go at all.

“I’m going to get another bucket of ice,” Jemma said, standing.

He nodded and frowned at the wiring he was currently redoing. Judging from its frayed appearance and singed ends, he was certain he was looking at the culprit for why the unit had stopped functioning. Really, the whole thing was inefficient, and he was certain he could make it work much better with only a few tweaks.

Fitz raised his arm and used the back of it to wipe his forehead. It was bloody stifling. He undid his shirt and flapped the edges, trying to cool off.

Jemma returned bearing ice, pausing for a moment while her eyes darted down over his exposed skin before snapping up to his face.

“Um, let me get you a fresh glass of water,” she said, her face flushing.

She kept her back to him as she made him a glass of ice water. It was difficult to concentrate on the parts in his hands as he tried to work out…nobody he’d known had ever been flustered by him.

Jemma handed him the drink, condensation already forming of the glasses exterior. He muttered his thanks and quickly gulped it down. Jemma’s gaze never left his face.

“I think I can jimmy open the window,” she said as he wiped his mouth. “Can I borrow a screwdriver?”

He fished a regular slotted screwdriver out from the jumble of tools on the floor beside him and passed it to her. His fingers tingled as they met hers.

Jemma blinked and looked down at her hand, and he wondered if she had felt it too, but then she turned away and went to the window, muttering under her breath at them as she inspected the frames. They were on the fourth floor of the hotel, and it was obvious that that at some point in the past the windows had opened, but were now sealed, either for safety concerns or because the resort didn’t want to pay for screens.

With a little cry of triumph, she found the hidden latches and forced them open, sliding the windows along their tracks to let in the night air. It wasn’t all that much cooler outside, but the breeze rushing in, heavy with the scent of the ocean and tropical flowers, felt heavenly.

“I’m going to change,” Jemma said. “It’s too hot for even this dress.”

“It won’t be much longer before I’ll start reassembling the AC, I’m working on the broken bit now.” He waved a hand at the wiring. Which he actually needed to focus on.

Jemma smiled and plucked a few things from a drawer before disappearing into the bathroom.

The wiring let him win, and he was fine-tuning the fan’s motor when Jemma walked out of the loo.

There was a thud as the multimeter he’d been using hit the carpet.

She was, er, rather she wasn’t wearing much. Her legs were bare, and Fitz was fairly certain that was his white t-shirt she had on. He knew his mouth was hanging open as she crossed the room to stand in front of the open window, lifting her hair off her neck with one hand and grabbing an ice cube with the other, which she pressed to her cheek.

Her raised arm meant the shirt had ridden up enough to show him she had her pink knickers on again.

As he watched, she dropped her hands to her sides, hesitated, then pulled up the front of the shirt and trailed the ice over her belly.

Fitz gulped as most of the blood in his body headed for his groin.

Her hand continued up, under the hem of her shirt, and he would give it a ninety-two percent chance she wasn’t wearing a bra.

His fingers twitched with the desire to confirm his suspicions.

It took effort because he brain had gone to mush, but he attempted to figure out what she was doing. Was she simply hot and trying to cool off?

He snorted at himself. He was brilliant, if he did say so himself, and could put the pieces together. First off, Jemma could have gone back to literally chill with Daisy, but had chosen to stay with him while he fixed the AC, second, being hot didn’t mean you stripped down to next to nothing in front of your coworker. Unless you wanted that person to be more than a coworker.

She’d also given him a handjob earlier in the day, and his toes curled at the memory of her tongue licking at…

Right, okay—oh god—she was clearly moving the ice cube over her breast, and he had to bite back a whimper as she found her nipple with it.  One hundred percent chance of no bra. Jemma moaned softly and pressed her chest against her hand.

Feeling clumsy, Fitz stood. Conclusion…the only conclusion he could come up with was that, for whatever unfathomable reason, Jemma was trying to seduce him. It was working very well, as his prick was pressing demandingly against the front of his shorts. He adjusted himself so it wasn’t right against the zipper, and carefully stepped behind her.

“Jemma,” he said, his voice coming out scratchy. What was the antonym for suave?

****

Jemma turned as Fitz rumbled her name. Hopefully, he wasn’t going to ask what she was doing, which she suspected was mostly making a fool of herself.

Blurting out that she was extremely eager to sleep with him had seemed out of the question, and she was mostly wishing she’d paid better attention to those lessons on seduction at the Academy. They hadn’t seemed relevant at the time since she’d been focused on lab work and it’d been highly unlikely she’d need to chat up the mass spectrometer to get it to function.

What she could recall had involved exposing skin and directing attention to that fact. She’d chickened out on parading around in nothing but her undies, and had opted for borrowing Fitz’s t-shirt, though that had meant that sliding an ice cube over her skin had mostly happened under the cover of fabric.

She bit her lip and looked up into Fitz’s face. His eyes were dark and half-lidded, and she trembled as he reached out and ran a hand down the arm she had under her shirt. Gently, he pulled her hand out and raised her fingers to his lips, sucking the melting ice cube into his mouth as his tongue flicked over her fingertips.

“Oh,” she said, her breath hard to catch as her pulse raced in her ears. How could he be single? If he dropped to one knee and asked her to marry him right then and there, she would have agreed without a second’s hesitation. She’d never met someone that appealed to every part of her the way he did. It was a deadly combination, and she knew she was falling hard. He probably left a trail of broken hearts behind him.

Fitz’s lips closed over the tips of her first two fingers. He sucked as his tongue swirled the ice cube around them while he gazed at her face.

It was too much, and she glanced down, which didn’t help her raging desire at all. Her heart leaped wildly into her throat as she stared at the way his erection was tenting out the front of his shorts. It wasn’t just the ice that was melting. She was as well.  

Fitz pulled her fingers from his mouth and tugged on her wrist so that the space between them disappeared. His hand was in her hair, tilting her head back as his lips met hers. They were soft and cool from the ice, and she moaned as his tongue pressed into her mouth at the same time as his hips surged forward to grind his cock against her belly. She had to wrap her arms around his neck just to stay on her feet.

She snogged him with abandon, determined to memorize him in case he left in a few days and promptly forgot all about her. It was so exhilarating to kiss him simply because she wanted to, not because it was their cover. He didn’t have to be holding her and sliding his tongue over hers in ways that made her forget the world existed, but he was.

One of Fitz’s hands trailed down her back and grabbed her rear, pulling her more firmly against him and she couldn’t help the way her body undulated. Her clit was throbbing, and she ached with the need to touch him. As if he knew precisely what she was desperate for, he pressed his hardon against her, making her groan.

“Jemma,” he gasped, and his fingers clutched at her, then his hands were steering her towards the bed. When the back of her legs bumped into the mattress, he stilled her and caught the hem of her shirt. He hesitated. “Can I take this off?”

Consent? He was asking for consent? Dear god, was there nothing he didn’t excel at? “Yes,” she said, the word catching in her throat.

He shrugged off his own shirt first, then pulled hers over her head. She nearly crossed her arms over her now exposed chest as Fitz studied her breasts. “Magnificent,” he breathed, then bent to catch a nipple between his lips.

She cried out, her head falling back as a bolt of pleasure rushed from where he was sucking on her to the area between her legs. She had to be incredibly slick, and there was a good chance the crotch of her knickers was soaked.

The heat meant she was sweating already, and there was perspiration on Fitz’s back as she slid her hands up it to tangle in his hair. He switched which nipple he was sucking on, and his fingers immediately started rolling the one he’d just left. She was panting and overwhelmed and never, ever wanted him to stop. He was too good, his mouth and hands too talented. How could she ever stand being with another man after this?

Fitz nuzzled her breasts and licked off a bead of sweat that’d been headed towards her nipple.

Slowly, he straightened up, and she had to let go of his hair. “Jemma,” he said in his sex roughened voice, his accent more prominent—did he know how that turned her on?—“I want to make love to you.”

“Please,” she panted. “Please, Fitz.”

He groaned, and his hands went to the fly of his shorts, rapidly undoing the snap and zip. He pushed them off his hip, leaving him in nothing but his pants, which was doing little to hide his erection. Jemma’s mouth went dry, and she had to lick her lips as the walls of her pussy pulsed with need.

Fitz’s mouth returned to hers, and his hands went to her rear, kneading slowly until he urged her to hop up and put her legs around his waist. In what was the sexiest move she’d ever been a part of, Fitz somehow maneuvered her onto the bed, settling her onto the poofy comforter with her head on a pillow. He kissed a trail down her neck to her breasts, pausing there to nip at their tips. Jemma arched her back and moaned.

He was simply the sexiest man alive.

****

Fitz thanked whatever deity was listening that he had managed to get Jemma onto the bed without dropping her, yanking on her hair, or kneeing her accidently.

Now she was under him, making the most incredible noises as he greedily played with her tits. He was having a difficult time remembering what else he was supposed to be doing and he was surprised she hadn’t told him to quit mauling her boobs. As if on cue, she moaned, and her legs went from being around his waist to being spread apart on the bed. He could hardly believe he was between them. She rolled her hips and rubbed her pussy wantonly against his cock. Fitz was nearly in tears at her blatant need.

He’d been teased his whole life about not being what women wanted, but right that moment the most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world desired him. Which he still couldn’t wrap his head around, but he’d be damned if he was going to miss the opportunity, and he was determined to do his best. If he was eventually going to be nothing but a dim memory to her, he at least wanted it to be a good one.

Though of course he was sweating from the heat in the room and probably smelled to high heaven and dear god why, why, why had he not suggested they shower together?

Giving her nipple one last parting kiss, he planted a few more on her belly before hooking his fingers into the sides of her delicious pink knickers. He moved she could bring her legs together and he could them down her legs to her ankles, and finally off.

He nearly collapsed at the sight of how wet the crotch was. He dropped them off the side of the bed and focused back on Jemma

She kept her legs together, and he glanced at her face. She must have been waiting for that, because she gave him a little smile and let her knees fall apart again, presenting him the part of her that he was sure held all the secrets to the universe.

Her pussy was swollen, and the most delicious shade of blushing rose. The lips were plump, and at the top, her clitoris was clearly visible. And she was wet. Very wet. For him. His thoughts stuttered as he failed to come up with what about his pasty self could have possibly done to make her want him.

His hand shook as he reached out and slid his fingers through her slick folds, moving them up to circle her clit. She moaned and writhed.

“ ‘S easier to do when I can see,” he said, watching awestruck as her hips jerked up against her hand.

“I imagine so.” Her fingers were digging into the comforter. It was very tempting to watch her fly apart like this, but she grabbed his wrist and stilled his hand. “Want you up here.”

He laid beside her, kissing her again and trying to tell her wordlessly just how much he appreciated her doing this with him. Jemma nipped at his lips and boldly moved her tongue around his mouth. She made the most adorable noise that was almost a growl and bowled him over onto his back. She straddled him, a look of determination on her face that made his cock twitch.

Jemma scooted down his body and turned her attention to his prick, tracing a finger over it through the fabric of his pants. He inelegantly grunted, because even that much contact was overwhelming when it came from her.

Jemma looked like she was trying to repress a smile as she slid her fingers under the waistband of his boxer- briefs and started peeling them off. She freed his cock, which he was grateful for, and paused for a second, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He was nervous about being on display, but then she was pulling his pants completely off and bending over to press kisses to his thigh.

She moved upwards, and it got increasingly difficult to breath as she approached his groin. Grinning, she caught his eye and then dragged the tip of her tongue right up the underside of his prick. Fitz nearly levitated off the bed. Oh crap, oh crap…but then she kissed her way further up, to his hip bone and side. He started to sigh in relief, but then the pebble of her nipple brushed over his sac and his cock.

He couldn’t help bucking up against her breast. Her long hair obscuring his view and he pushed it back over her shoulder, so he could see what was surely a miracle. Picking up that he was into what she was doing, Jemma continued to tease his aching prick with her tit, slowly dragging the tip up and down his cock.

It wasn’t long before he had to stop her, because the sight and feel of her perfect breast on him was going to make him blow and he certainly didn’t want her to remember him as the lout that came unexpectedly on her boobs.

“Up here,” he croaked, and she wiggled until she could kiss him again.

She tasted so wonderful and felt so good against him, even if they were both a little sticky with sweat.

Jemma sat up and then froze. Her brows drew together, and a warning klaxon went off in his skull. She looked upset. He thought she must have just realized it was him she was getting busy with, and she’d changed her mind.

“Jemma?” he asked cautiously.

She looked ready to sob. “I’m not prepared,” she said.

“Um…” he trailed off, not sure what she meant. “You seemed, er, ready a minute ago, though if you need me to, I’ll gladly use my hand, or, ah…mouth, to make sure you’re stimulated enough—”

She cut him off with a brisk shake of her head. “Not that kind of prepared. I mean…I really haven’t been in a relationship for a while, and I’m not on any kind of birth control at the moment, and I don’t have condoms.” Now she appeared to be nearly panicking, and her nails dug into his chest.

“Condoms!” he said, her words finally making sense. He put his hands on her hips and raised her up enough so he could twist to the side. Finding the drawer to his nightstand, he pulled it opened and felt around until he could pull the box out from under the bible.

Jemma’s brows went up. “You had condoms under a bible?”

“Hunter gave them to me,” he said, haphazardly shredding the box to get it open. “And I figured you wouldn’t look there.”

“I supposed you’re right. Remind me to thank your friend later.”

He hoped she wouldn’t.

Fitz pulled out one of the squares and Jemma immediately plucked it from his fingers, tore it open, and rolled it onto his cock, which itself was a surprisingly erotic sight. Though at this point of time there was little she did that wasn’t arousing.

She let his prick go, wrapped her fingers around his arm and pulled him so that she was on her back with him between her legs.

“Like this,” she whispered before kissing him.

Any way was good for him. Reaching down, he fisted his cock and managed to line it up with her entrance. He hesitated for a second. There was no going back from this. Not that he cared. Deeping their kiss, he thrust himself home.

****

Jemma gasped, and her head fell back against the pillow.

She felt…she felt…

For the third time in her life, she felt like the universe realigned itself. The first had been when she’d been young and her father had given her a college-level chemistry textbook. The second during her first doctorate when she’d thought her data hadn’t made sense and she’d have to start over again, but then her way of thinking had shifted, and she’d realized she’d made quite an amazing breakthrough. Now, it was being completely joined with Leopold Fitz in the bed they’d been sharing for a week.

After this, she wasn’t going to be the same. She’d always been fine on her own, proud of her brain and her accomplishments, but with him she was an even better version of herself. And with the knowledge that they fit together perfectly physically and well as mentally she couldn’t imagine being without him again.  

“Oh Fitz,” she murmured. He wasn’t moving as he let her adjust to him being inside, which was very thoughtful.

He kissed her softly and whispered her name against her lips.

His hips hitched as he slid his cock slightly out of her, then plunged back in. Another pause. He tore his lips from hers. “Jemma…I need…”

She cupped his cheek as his eyes pleaded with her. “Move,” she said.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his gaze locked on her as he began thrusting. He quickly picked up speed, his breathing harsh as their bodies collided again and again.

She pressed her palms to his sweat-slicked back and slid them down to grab his ass. She’d been so very right. It was entirely squeezable.

“Jemma,” he growled, and his eyes lost their focus.

Pleasure was coiling tight in her belly, it wouldn’t take much of a push, but she needed one. Hoping he wouldn’t mind, she dragged one of her hands from his backside and worked it between their bodies to rub her clit.

Fitz groaned.

Her hips stuttered and then rose slightly off the bed. She was so close to the edge. Her thighs quivered.

“Fitz,” she cried as her orgasm crashed into her. Both her hands fell to the bed as her hips jerked and rolled.

Fitz paused briefly as she came down, shifted his knees, and when he started rutting into her again the angle was slightly different and oh god, oh god, oh god—

She came again with a wail, this time her fingernails bit into his back. He was pounding into her now, his eyes closed, and his brows drawn together. The aftershocks from her orgasm were still making her gasp and moan when Fitz’s rhythm faltered. He snapped his hips forward, pressing deep into her. One more time and his entire body shuddered as he came with a grunt.

Jemma softly kissed the corner of his mouth as he rode out his bliss.

He sagged against her but didn’t stay there long as he had to deal with the condom. He anchored it with a hand and pulled out of her. The loss of contact put her close to tears, which was entirely irrational, but she felt completely and utterly laid bare to the world, not just Fitz, so she allowed herself to not make sense.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, rolling to the side and getting to his feet.

At least it was cooler with it just being her.

A moment later he was back and curling up against her as if he understood her need to be held. Only the heat rapidly became too much and they had to separate.

“Still bloody hot,” she said. “You need to finish with the AC.”

“I don’t know if I can move,” he said, putting his elbow over his eyes.

“Well, you’re going to have to. I’ll never sleep like this.”

Grumbling, Fitz got back up and went to where he had the insides of the air conditioner spread out. “This would go faster if I had a second set of hands to help.”

Bother.

With a huff, she stood and went to crouch by him. “Tell me what I need to do,” she said.

Fitz turned his head, and his eyes went wide as they landed on her bare breasts. “Never mind!” he said. “It’s not going to go faster at all this way.” He fumbled whatever bit of the machinery was in his hand, and it landed back on the floor.

Jemma had to duck her head and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. He’d just shagged her and still found her attractive enough to be distracting. Though he needed to focus on the AC.

“Nonsense,” she said. “Let me help.”

His adam’s apple bobbed, but then he sighed. “Alright, let’s get the condenser back in place.”

Like always, they worked together quickly and efficiently, and as Jemma slid the window closed, Fitz turned on the AC with a flourish.

It hummed to life and immediately began pumping out frigid air.

“I made a few adjusts so we won’t have to turn it up as high to get the same effect,” Fitz said.

Her eyes dropped to his cock, which was already at least half on it’s way to being hard again. He flushed when he noticed where she was looking, and she rubbed her thighs together as he hardened further while she watched.

“Has a mind of its own,” he said with a shrug.

She nodded. “Uh-huh.” She looked up at his face. “Can I be on top this time?”

“Yes, please.”


	14. Ka Mea Nānā

A distant chime slowly worked its way into her consciousness, but Jemma was warm and comfortable and far from being ready to wake up. She wormed her way closer to the body next to her, sighing in satisfaction as she found the perfect spot to cradle her head. Fitz’s hand slipped from her hip to glide down her thigh, then back up, caressing her belly for a moment before inching slowly upwards.

She bit back a smile, realizing he must be awake.

A kiss pressed against the back of her neck a moment later confirmed her suspicions. “Morning,” he rumbled in her ear. His voice was low and rough with sleep and it really wasn’t fair that even first thing in the morning—if it was still morning, the comforter was blocking her view of the nightstand—he could be quite this sexy. She was sure her breath smelled terrible and she desperately needed a shower.

“Morning,” she whispered back, trying to pull the blankets down far enough so she could see the clock. A blast of cold air washed down her front and she squeaked, yanking the comforter back up.

“Um, I may have fixed the AC a little too well, ” Fitz’s sheepish voice admitted.

Jemma wiggled around so she was facing him, reveling in the feel of his skin against hers. After last night, she’d thought the simple act of waking up next to him wouldn’t still be quite this thrilling, but she’d been very wrong. She tucked her cold nose against his neck and felt a shiver run through his body as he held her tight. She was fairly certain rubbing her bum wasn’t the medically approved way to warm her up, but she wasn’t about to question his methods.

“Did we miss breakfast?” she asked, tilting her head back so she could see Fitz’s face. The light in the room was dim, but it was definitely daytime. The last thing she remembered before they’d finally fallen asleep last night was the orange light of sunrise peeking in around the curtains.

“And lunch, I think,” Fitz said. He leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, and her heart skipped a beat as he pressed a kiss to her lips. Jemma watched, fascinated, as he closed his eyes, the long sweep of his eyelashes making her inordinately jealous. It wasn’t fair that he looked like that when she was just…her. She had no idea how she'd ended up exactly where she’d wanted to be, but she wanted to memorize every stolen moment. 

Fitz nipped at her lower lip and she decided that if he wasn’t going to worry about morning breath, than neither was she. Much. Tentatively, Jemma parted her lips and Fitz sighed happily, deepening their kiss. He rolled them over so she was on her back, and she battled with the comforter for a minute, trying to uncover him enough so she could slide her hands down to his…

Jemma barely managed to bite back a shriek, yanking the comforter up again, which had the not-so-unfortunate consequence of smushing Fitz’s face against her chest. He made a happy noise, nuzzling into her cleavage and kissing his way to one breast while his clever fingers tended to the other. It was making her eyes cross even as she pushed at his shoulder. “Fitz!” she hissed.

He paused, lifting his head just enough for his stubble to brush across her pebbled nipple and oh good lord she was going to have to remember that for later. “Jemma?”

She tried to keep her voice steady. “Is there a reason for a DWARF to be in our room?”

Fitz sat up hastily, and she yipped, yanking the comforter closer to cover herself even as he turned and caught sight of the drone hovering over the table across the room. “Huh, it must have gone on another scouting mission.”

He started to get up and Jemma caught his arm. “You don’t think…” she trailed off, nervously worrying her lower lip. “How long has it been there?”

Fitz frowned, narrowing his eyes and grabbing the edge of the comforter to yank up over her shoulders even as he climbed out of bed. Something warm glowed in Jemma’s chest at his protectiveness even as she rolled her eyes and sat up. “They wouldn’t dare. I told Mack he needed to override the automated return sequence every time, he must have forgotten.”

He grabbed his tablet and she couldn’t stop watching him move about in the low light of the room. Her thighs, and the bits between them, were sore enough to remind her that she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself last night, but it seemed she was far from sated. When she finally tore her gaze from his behind, the drone was off and safely tucked into its charging station and Fitz was busily poking at the tablet screen.

He headed back in her direction, settling onto the bed next to her and tilting the tablet so she could see it. “Looks like it’s just turned up, see?” He rewound a video that showed their room, with the bed in the lower corner of the screen just barely visible. Jemma let out a relieved sigh, and then felt herself flush.

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” she said ashamedly.

Fitz snorted, reversing the video so they could watch endless ductwork and dust bunnies fly by. “You should always assume, with Hunter.” He gave her a crooked smile that made her heart flutter. “One time, he and Bobbi—did you see that?” Fitz leaned towards the screen, his expression suddenly serious. The mention of Fitz’s ex made it hard for Jemma to breathe and she turned away, trying not to let him see the hurt she was sure showed on her face.

Closing her eyes, she steeled herself and prayed her voice wouldn’t waver. “See what?” There, she could be as casual about this…liaison as he obviously was. After all, it wasn’t as though they’d have much of a chance to see each other ever again, with the Atlantic and several layers of impenetrable bureaucracy between their respective agencies. It was silly to think whatever they had would stretch past this mission, even if she desperately wanted it to.

“Look.” Fitz tapped at the screen excitedly. “It’s changed.” He showed her a series of photographs taken ten minutes apart that someone, likely Daisy, had programmed the drone to take of the piece of paper with the coordinates on it. At some point, the hidden paper had shifted. The time stamp at the bottom of the last image was 13:17 and Jemma flushed, realizing they’d slept most of the day away.

Then Jemma sat up straighter, her mind latching onto what Fitz had just said. “If someone’s checking on it-” she began.

“Someone’s probably going to add to it,” Fitz finished for her, still poking at the tablet. “We have to be careful about tipping our hand. Can’t send a drone to hover in the washroom all afternoon. One’s still checking the paper every ten minutes, but we’ll need to do the I.D.” He glanced at her, seemingly for confirmation, and Jemma swallowed her protest. They weren’t really on vacation, and she couldn’t loll about in bed with Fitz all day, even though she wanted to.

“Dr. Garner’s lecture is this afternoon, we should go.” Jemma said. “That way we can keep an eye out for the Russian and whoever’s leaving him the coordinates.” 

Fitz leaned in and kissed her soundly on the mouth in a way that was more affectionate than she’d expected, almost like he’d just wanted to kiss her even if it wasn’t going to lead to anything more. Her heart was lighter as he pulled back. “We don’t much time, then,” he said. “Or I’d offer to scrub your back in the shower.” He sounded a bit flustered, even as the words came out of his mouth, and Jemma melted. 

She glanced at the clock and the flashing light on her phone indicating she had messages. She’d already arranged a time for their dinner with Coulson tonight—which she really needed to tell Fitz about at some point—and Daisy wouldn’t have just left texts if something important had come up. They could probably steal a few more minutes. “I wouldn’t mind the company,” Jemma said, knowing her cheeks must be bright red even though the room was practically an icebox.

Fitz’s grin lit his face as well as something deep inside her, and she pushed her worries about how little time they had together to the back of her mind. He was here, now, and looking at her like she was all the antimatter missing from the universe. One longish shower wasn’t going to throw the mission. Boldly, Jemma dropped the comforter, enjoying the way Fitz’s eyes glazed over.

“Shall we?”

***

Fitz was still floating as Jemma hurried him out the door of their room, shoving some kind of protein bar in his hand. He made a face at it and she rolled her eyes. “I’m not listening to you complain about your stomach during the entire lecture.”

“They put snacks out,” Fitz protested.

“Biscuits have very little nutritional value, and you’ve burned quite a lot of calories in the last few hours,” Jemma said, her cheeks turning pink as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Fitz was rather proud of that, actually. After all those mornings he’d spent agonizing over the thought of someone else bringing Jemma to climax in bed, and in the shower, and bent over their work table, Fitz had put his imagination to good use and their shower had run long enough that Jemma had finally shoved him out of the bathroom to finish getting ready on her own, breathlessly declaring they had to leave the room some time today.

He’d gotten dressed and waited for her, scrolling through his messages from Hunter—all containing lewd videos and even lewder suggestions—and a few from Mack updating him on their progress regarding the submarine, of which there was little.

Jemma’d finally emerged in a cloud of sweet-smelling shampoo looking beautiful, as always. He had been disappointed to see she was wearing trousers, dashing his hopes of a repeat from yesterday, until she’d turned around and grabbed her tote, giving him an excellent view of her arse. That, combined with the fact that her blouse was practically see through without actually revealing anything, seemed designed to drive him halfway mad.

God help him, he had no idea what he’d done to make her want him, but he’d do it a thousand more times if it meant she’d never stop.

Jemma tucked her hand under his arm after he’d unwrapped the bar and glared at it suspiciously, leaning her head against his shoulder as they entered the elevator. “So, there must be at least one more person on the inside,” she said as the elevator started moving. “Don’t you think?” She tipped her head back just a little and Fitz couldn’t help but brush a kiss across her forehead.

“Yeah. Be smart to keep the one making the drops and the one noting the coordinates separate, so nobody has all the pieces.”

“Except whoever’s on the submarine, I suppose,” Jemma mused. “Have we figured out how we’re going to stop it?”

Fitz shook his head and took a cautious bite of his protein bar. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, but it still tasted too much like cardboard to be very enjoyable. “Are we having dinner after the lecture?” Fitz asked hopefully.

Jemma glanced at him, and he would swear she looked nervous. “About that,” she said. “I, um, kind of already make plans.” Fitz’s heart plummeted to his shoes. “Someone’s going to be joining us.” she continued. “I hope that’s alright.” She was looking at him hopefully, but he had no idea what to say. Was she sick of his company already? They’d arrived at the lobby, and he got out automatically, Jemma still clutching his arm. “Fitz?”

There was a crowd waiting to enter the event center and they joined the queue of people outside the doors.

“I know I should have asked,” Jemma said, “but things just got away from us yesterday and I really couldn’t say no, since he’s, um, my dad.” The last she said in a tone he was coming to know quite well. It was her ‘this is a lie in case someone overhears us’ voice, which he found completely adorable, even if it felt like a knife was twisting in his heart.

He blinked, perplexed. “Oh, right, your dad.”

“Yes, my father, who’s running things back home,” she said significantly, and Fitz caught on, even if he was still confused. Why would her boss arrange to have dinner with them in the middle of an undercover mission? “Apparently he has some news that he wanted to share with us,” Jemma continued brightly. “Isn’t that nice?”

“Uh, yes, great,” Fitz said, frantically trying to decide how much trouble he and Jemma were going to be in if the Agent in Charge found out they weren’t just pretending to be a couple anymore. He’d been so caught up in the joy of discovering everything that made Jemma’s breath hitch last night that he hadn’t even considered how it might affect the possibility of any future collaborations. Of which he hoped there’d be many. Those long stretches of time alone in his lab in London that he used to enjoy were looking increasingly bleak now that he’d had the pleasure of working beside her. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He should probably bring that up eventually, but at the moment he was just relieved she wasn’t trying to avoid spending time with him.

Jemma grabbed two packets from the check-in desk and absently handed one to him as they entered the room and found a spot at the back row of tables. Jemma craned her neck toward the front of the room and Fitz stifled a grin at her forlorn expression. He’d bet she’d never sat at the back of a class in her life. Reaching over, he put a hand on her knee. “We’ll be able to hear just fine,” he assured her.

“But what about the visuals?”

Fitz flipped open her packet and silently pointed to the contents, a faithfully reproduced copy of the lecture they were about to see. Jemma looked relieved. “Oh, of course.” She rummaged around in her tote for a pen and neatly printed her name at the top of the printout.

“Jemma,” Fitz murmured, leaning in close enough to touch his nose to her ear. He draped his arm across the back of her chair. “You do remember we’re supposed to be watching everyone else, right?”

“I’m an excellent multitasker,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the front of the room.

“I’m aware,” Fitz admitted, delighted to see the flush creeping up her throat. Now, if he could just remember to not spend this whole lecture watching Jemma, they might have a shot at figuring out who the Russian’s co-conspirator was.

Jemma stiffened suddenly, and Fitz surveyed the room but didn’t see either the Russian or anyone unusual. “Fitz,” she whispered. “May’s here. Up front in the green dress.” He recognized the name, though he hadn’t met Jemma’s other team member yet. He frowned, and finally spotted who she meant. A woman off to one side in the front row was scanning the crowd, looking bored, with the lecture packet pushed to one side. “I’ve never seen her in a dress. Or a color,” Jemma said, sounding surprised.

Just then, the speaker strode out onto the stage, introducing himself as Dr. Garner, and launching into a surprisingly interesting lecture despite the topic being psychology. Fitz found himself watching Jemma at least half the time as she diligently took notes, wrinkling her nose when she clearly disagreed with one of Dr. Garner’s points and furrowing her brow when he made one she might consider. The audience seemed to eat it up, even though Garner skimmed over quite a bit in the middle of the informational packet. He’d been scheduled for two hours, but began wrapping up early, which was a first in all the lectures Fitz had ever attended.

“Wait,” Jemma said suddenly as Dr. Garner took questions. “Where did May go?” Fitz hadn’t seen Jemma’s team member so much as move during the lecture, not even to open her folder, but she’d seemed quite riveted. Now, though, her seat was vacant.

“There,” Fitz said, tapping Jemma’s shoulder and drawing her attention to the closing exit doors on the other side of the room. “She must have gone out…” He trailed off as Dr. Garner edged off the stage, still answering one last question, and quickly headed for the same doors.

“She has been keeping an eye on him,” Jemma breathed. “I thought it was strange that he’d been added to the program at the last minute. From his resume, I can’t imagine he didn’t already have engagements. Come on, we’ve got to go.” She hastily stuffed their folders into her tote and stood, heading for the doors May and Garner had just gone through.

Fitz followed her into the lobby, taking the hand she offered and looking for any glimpse of their quarry. “Fitz,” Jemma whispered, whirling suddenly toward him and putting her arms around his neck. It took him a second to get his bearings, his hands automatically grasping her hips and pulling her closer. “By the restrooms.”

Trying to focus as the scent of Jemma filled his nostrils, Fitz spotted one of the Russians from yesterday—the one who wasn’t Ivanov—lurking by doors leading onto the patio, and Garner glance around before dragging a ‘closed for cleaning’ sign in front of the men’s washroom door before he disappeared inside. “He’s gone in,” Fitz said. “Blocked the door. And one of the Russians is just stepping outside.” 

“Oh no,” Jemma said, sounding thoroughly disappointed. “Dr. Garner’s lecture was quite brilliant, if a little heavy on the hypothetical. I can’t believe he’d be mixed up in this.”

Fitz had no idea what could possibly drive an ostensibly smart man like Garner to partner with people who were interested only in using the latest tech to maim or kill, but it seemed irrefutable that he was up to something. 

He hugged Jemma closer, burying his nose in her hair and breathing her in.They had to be careful. Fitz would never forgive himself if Jemma got hurt because Garner got suspicious. Mentally, Fitz moved the night-night gun to the top of his project list. That it also required Jemma’s expertise was merely a bonus. 

“We can’t keep standing in the middle of the lobby, Fitz,” Jemma murmured, her hands caressing the nape of his neck.

He looked down at her sheepishly, having forgotten where they were. “Right.” He spotted a chaise half hidden behind a palm and forced himself to step away from her, though the sad little sigh she made as her arms slipped from around his neck made him feel a bit better. Pressing a hand to the small of her back, he steered her towards the chaise, waving at George and Brad as they headed for the patio doors. “When’s the next lecture?” he asked.

“That was the last,” Jemma said promptly. “It was supposed to go until half four.”

“We can’t act like we’re waiting for the next lecture then,” he said, pulling her down to sit next to him so they both had a view of the restroom Garner had disappeared into. “I guess we’ll have to…” He didn’t finish his sentence, finding himself rather suddenly with an armful of Jemma as she enthusiastically pressed her lips against his, her hands clutching the front of his shirt and her tongue teasing along the seam of his mouth. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to complain about her choice of distractions.

He slid a hand into her hair, trying very hard not to completely lose sight of their objective, when she tipped her head back, exposing her lovely throat and driving everything but her from his mind. Biting back a groan, he kissed a path down from her ear to her collarbone, feeling her shudder every time he moved on to the next spot. His hand slipped from her hip to slide down her thigh, his thumb tracing along the inner seam of her trousers, and she let out a tiny gasp just as someone cleared their throat nearby.

Loudly.

“Jemma,” a male voice said. Fitz jerked his head back at the same time Jemma squeaked, sitting up straight and smoothing down the front of Fitz’s shirt as she turned towards the speaker. Fitz started to rise, eyeing the empty hands of the man in front of them. At least he wasn’t visibly armed, but if he knew Jemma’s name, then who…

“Sir,” Jemma said. “I mean…Dad, you’re early.”

Fitz slumped back onto the chaise, relieved. The man standing in front of them wasn't what Fitz had expected at all. He wouldn’t have looked twice at this man if he’d passed him in the hall upstairs. Jemma’s boss was average height, average build, middle-aged, and wearing a Hawaiian shirt even worse than the one that was now thankfully ruined upstairs in Fitz’s drawer.

“Thought I’d scope the place out, I heard the pool’s great. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“Yes, of course,” Jemma said, hastily rising from the bench and tugging Fitz up with her. He took a moment to check on the restroom door, but the sign was still poised in front of it. “Um, Fitz, this is…”

Jemma floundered and the man seemed to take pity on her, extending his hand to Fitz. “You can call me Phil.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, Phil,” Fitz said. “We were just…” He cast about for an explanation, but Jemma was, as usual, ready to step in as words failed him.

“May was watching someone,” Jemma said, keeping her voice low and a smile plastered on her face. She entwined her fingers with Fitz’s. “He went into the men’s restroom,” she paused to give Phil a significant look, receiving a short nod of understanding, “and hasn’t come out.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Um, I think. Did you see him come out, Fitz?”

Fighting the urge to nervously rub the back of his neck, Fitz tried to keep his voice even. “Ah, no, and the sign’s still up, so I don’t think he’s come out.”

Something that might have been a smile twitched at the side of Phil’s mouth. “Oh good, then I guess we can all just wait.”

“Yeah, good,” Fitz echoed.

The door of the men’s restroom began to open just then, thankfully drawing their attention while Fitz tried to get his heart rate under control. Garner wasn’t the one who came out, though, and Jemma audibly gasped. “Oh no,” she whispered frantically. “Oh no, I’m sure this isn’t what it looks like, sir, May would never…”

“Who was the guy, do you know his name?” Phil interrupted just as May spotted them. She might have been surprised, but Fitz certainly couldn’t tell from her facial expression.

“He’s one of the lecturers…” Fitz began.

“Andrew Garner?” Phil said, rubbing his chin with one hand like he was hiding a smile as Garner emerged from the restroom, looking around guiltily and pushing the closed sign away from it with his foot. “May,” Phil acknowledged as the woman in green came to a halt in front of them.

“Not a word, Phil,” she said, cutting her eyes to Fitz and Jemma. Fitz tensed, feeling Jemma do the same beside him. May spun on her heel and marched back to Garner, taking his arm as he gave them all a wave, looking embarrassed.

“Well, cross that one off the list,” Phil said.

“Sorry, sir?” Jemma said, sounding surprised. “But…”

“He’s May’s ex-husband and one of our consultants. Definitely not who we’re looking for. And I wouldn’t mention this to her pretty much ever.” Jemma’s eyes widened as Fitz finally caught up as well, his jaw dropping. “So,” Phil said cheerfully. “You two hungry?”


	15. Makuakāne

Jemma glanced back at Fitz, who had a grim expression on his face. Coulson had his arm around her shoulders as he led them into the dining room, with Fitz was following behind.

“This is a little unorthodox,” she said in a low voice to Coulson.

“You know me, if there’s a box, I don’t want to be in it. Even if there are holes punched in the lid.”

She sighed. It was probably as much of an explanation as she was going to get.

The table Coulson led them to was tucked in a corner, and he sat with his back was to the wall, leaving the space next to him open. Jemma smiled and sat across from him while Fitz plopped heavily into the chair next to her. Coulson raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Under the table, she pressed her leg against Fitz’s, who was jiggling his knee nervously. When it didn’t stop, she put her hand over his where it rested on the table, lacing their fingers together.

A waiter came over and set down three glasses of ice water.

“Give us a minute with the menus,” Coulson said, picking up his. The waiter nodded and left. Coulson kept his eyes on the menu, not even looking up when he started to speak. “I’ve read your file,” he said to Fitz. “It’s very impressive. Much like our Jemma’s.”

“Oh,” Fitz said, swallowing hard. His fingers squeezed hers, and she could feel the tension rolling off him. “I, um, she managed to get two doctorates.”

“Fitz!” Jemma wasn’t about to let him downplay himself. “Don’t let him fool you,” she said to Coulson. “Fitz is brilliant. He can see things in ways no one else can. Take a theoretical idea and make it practical in the time most people would need to read the article. He can improve any mechanical device he’s handed. Create wonders, like the DWARFs, from nearly nothing in materials. And that’s just what I’ve seen since we’ve been here.”

Coulson raised both eyebrows this time.

Fitz picked up their joined hands and brushed a kiss over her knuckles as she turned her head to look at him. He was gazing at her with a look of awe on his face, his blue eyes warm. She smiled, and the corner of his mouth lifted as well.

Coulson cleared his throat. “Since you two have been here, you’ve gotten close?”

Jemma immediately let go of Fitz, and they both turned to look at him, sitting ramrod straight in their chairs.

“Uh…” she started and trailed off.

“Talk, we’ve had, er, a lot of time to just, ah, talk,” Fitz sputtered.

Jemma tried to stop the flush she could feel warming her cheeks. Coulson couldn’t tell from simply looking at them that they’d been…a torrent of images replayed from the night before—not to mention the shower—ran through her mind.

Her cheeks got warmer.

Coulson was taking a sip from his water glass with no expression at all.

“Yeah, we’ve been talking, a lot,” she said, immediately biting her lip as Fitz made a distressed noise beside her.

She was saved from saying anything further as the waiter returned.

“We’ll start with the Ahi Spam dip, please,” Coulson said to the waiter. “And order when that gets here.”

Thank goodness, she hadn’t even looked at her menu yet. She did that, only jumping slightly when Fitz’s hand settled on her thigh under the table and gave her a little squeeze. He was staring down at his menu as well.

The waiter left, and Coulson leaned back in his chair.

Jemma had to muffle a gasp when Fitz’s hand didn’t leave her leg, and instead, his fingers started brushing little circles over the inside of her thigh. From the way he was frowning at the menu, she didn’t think he was even aware he was doing it.

“Can you tell me about some of your nonwork-related projects?” Coulson asked, and Fitz raised his head as his eyes lit up.

“There’s not a lot I can talk about—” he started.

“Tell him about the night-night guns!” Jemma said. “It’s ever such a clever idea.”

“Night-night guns?” Coulson looked amused.

“Like time to go night-night?” Fitz said. “They’re for when you want to shoot first and ask questions later.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “We’re working on the name.”

“You’ve got my attention.” Coulson did appear intrigued.

“See, I’d been working on the design for a gun with a projectile that’d break up on impact in the subcutaneous tissue, mostly theoretical at this point, though I’ve done a few trials.” His eyes went to Jemma. “But I’d been having trouble figuring out the substance to be delivered. Which is where Jemma comes in. One article on neurotoxin and—”

Jemma huffed. “—well, it was more than one—”

“—and she’d started working on the microdosing problem—”

“— it has to be a minuscule amount—”

“—but a catalyst would—”

“—dendrotoxin—”

“—there’s still the drug’s half-life to—”

“—I think with the right lab—”

“We could create a working prototype,” they finished together.

Jemma looked over a Coulson, who was smothering a grin. “I’m going to pretend that made sense,” he said. “But the promise of a gun with non-lethal stopping power is very interesting. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wished I had something like that as a resource.”

Jemma nudged Fitz with her elbow.

“Speaking of labs,” Coulson said. “I was wondering, if you had the facilities, could you add an EMP to one of the drones? I’d also like cloaking but am more concerned about the former. We have Mack sending the drones on reconnaissance missions to the coordinates we’ve seen, but for actual agents to get to the submarine it needs to be unable to dive for a while.”

Jemma turned to look at Fitz, who nodded eagerly.

“It would require a high tech setup,” he said.

“The Bus!” Jemma said. Daisy had said it was nearby.

Coulson nodded and slid a piece of paper across the table to her, which she immediately put in her pocket. “Get a taxi to that location and let May know, she’ll arrange for you to switch cars and be taken to the hanger where the Bus is.”

Fitz was nearly drooling, and his fingers were flexing against her thigh. “This is the lab with the holotable, yeah?”

Excitement bubbled inside her. “Yes! I can’t wait to show you.”

Coulson looked very pleased.

The waiter appeared and set the dip down, Jemma didn’t know what to think as it came with crackers instead of tortilla chips. Not to mention she didn’t think Spam belonged in a dip.

Fitz didn’t seem to share her worry, as he removed his hand from her leg and immediately dunked a cracker in and started munching.

“For you?” the waiter asked her.

“Hawaiian cobb salad,” she said. “Dressing on the side.”

“Hawaiian plate for me.” Coulson gathered the menus and handed them to the waiter.

“Loco Moco,” Fitz said around a mouthful of cracker.

The waiter wrote down their order and disappeared.

Fitz scooped up more dip and held the cracker out towards her. Jemma eyed it like it might bite. “Go on, try, it’s really good.”

“He’s not wrong,” Coulson said, popping a dip-laden cracker in his mouth.

Shrugging, Jemma opened her mouth. Coulson’s eyes widened as Fitz set the cracker on her tongue. She chewed thoughtfully. It was fisher than she’d been expecting. “Not bad. Not really good, either.”

Fitz shrugged. “I like it.” She refrained from mentioning all the things he liked to eat—her mind skittered sideways. Oh, there was something they hadn’t tried yet. She looked at him from under her lashes, wondering if he’d be interested, only to find him scooping the sliced strawberries and orange wedges that’d been used to garnish the dip onto a small plate. He set it in front of her.

“Thank you,” she said, selecting a strawberry wedge. Which immediately sent her mind back to when she’d licked—

Coulson was darting his eyes between them, and Jemma realized she was gazing at Fitz with what had to be a ridiculously sappy look on her face.

“Any other side projects?” Coulson asked, saving her. Or maybe politely ignoring her, or dismissing it as her playing up her undercover persona. Which had become less undercover and more absolute reality.

“My hands really are tied,” Fitz said. Coulson nodded in understanding. “But I do have a lot of fascinating things I wish I could talk about that are waiting for me when I get home.”

Jemma’s heart sank, and she took a shaky breath. There wasn’t enough time left. She wanted to wake up a million more mornings snuggled with him, spend a million days beside him in a lab, working either together on a project or just side by side, have a million lifetimes together with—

Oh god, she was going to cry. Letting her fork drop, she stood rather suddenly. “I have to go to the loo,” she mumbled, heading for the exit.

****

Fitz frowned at Jemma’s back. That hadn’t been an I-have-to-pee face she’d been making. He was just about to follow her when Phil blew out a sigh and leaned forward over the table.

“Daisy was right,” he said.

“Daisy?” Fitz echoed, not sure what she had to do with anything.

Phil dunked another cracker in the dip. “She told me,” Phil said between bites. “That you saw Jemma differently than the rest of us. And she’s right, but it’s more than that.”

“It is?” Fitz was completely lost.

Phil crossed his arms. “Jemma is usually very aware that she doesn’t fit in, that her mind is moving faster than everyone else’s. She censors herself, both in what she does and what she says.” Phil shook his head. “She’s not doing that with you.”

Fitz had no clue how he was supposed to respond, so he stuck a cracker overflowing with dip into his mouth.

“I was so worried about sending her on this mission, afraid she’d get teamed up with some guy who wouldn’t see how special she is.”

Fitz could feel heat working its way up his throat. “Jemma’s amazing,” he said when he’d swallowed enough of the cracker to be able to speak again.

“You can keep up with her? Can’t you?”

He nodded. “Most of the time, but…it’s also…”

“We’re twice as smart when we’re together,” Jemma finished for him, sliding back into her chair. Fitz wanted to ask her what was wrong. There was something slightly off about the smile she had plastered on her face.

Fitz settled for putting his arm around her, satisfied when she immediately leaned into him. Though a second later they had to separate as the food arrived. Jemma gave him a withering look at the mound of rice, hamburger patty, and egg on his plate. He tucked in, not concerned because her being less than pleased with his diet at least felt familiar.

“We have been working on ironing out some problems with a cybernetic eye,” he said.

Jemma perked up. “That is an interesting piece of technology. It’s all strictly theoretical at the moment, but I think together we could solve the issues with nerve impulses and microvascular circulation. Actually, we’ve been thinking the device Stark Industries is debuting here be used with it.”

“Possibly,” Fitz said. “The way they connect with neurons in entirely different, but that doesn’t mean they have to be mutually exclusive.”

Jemma made a face. “I wish the device wasn’t being targeted as a weapon. What good does it do to control someone else’s prosthetic limbs?”

Fitz set down his utensils and shared a glance with Phil, who gestured with his chin that Fitz should be the one to say it.

“Well, it’s not only that, though remote control is a possibility,” he said.

Jemma turned concerned eyes towards him.

“It’s a device that can be placed on someone and immediately connect with their nerves, which means—”

“—that it could be used to stimulate nociceptors and cause horrendous and crippling pain,” she finished, returning to picking at her salad.  “Why do people immediately take a wonderful invention that could change so many people’s lives for the better and…want to do that with it?”

Phil looked down at his plate, but Fitz scooted his chair over, the metal feet squeaking loudly on the tile so that he could wrap his arms around Jemma. She twisted in her chair and hugged him back.

Eventually, they returned to their food, all three of them eating in silence.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, Jemma set her fork down. She made a face and licked at her lips, then pulled a tube of Chapstick from her pocket. Before she could open it, she dropped the tube. It rolled off the table, hit Fitz’s leg, and fell to the floor. 

He started to reach for it, but Jemma was faster and darted after the Chapstick, effectively ending up stretched out in his lap.

Phil raised an eyebrow again as Jemma wiggled.

Fitz gritted his teeth. “Do you need some help?” he asked.

“Almost got it!” she said. Fitz did his best to not think about Jemma squirming in his lap, though his body had other plans and his mind reminded him in no uncertain terms exactly how much he liked Jemma bent over him by playing him a highlight reel of some of the choice moments from the night before. God, that hadn’t been wiggling, that been full on riding, his cock deep inside her while her tits had—

“Watch!” he yipped. He coughed and tried again. “I have another side project, inspired by old spy movies. It’s a watch with a cutting laser hidden in it.”

Phil was pressing his lips together into a thin line, though the corner of his eyes were crinkling. “How’s that coming?” he asked.

“Uh, well. Coming well.” Oh god. Fitz snapped his mouth closed.

Jemma sat up with the Chapstick triumphantly clasped in her hand. “Got it!” She immediately opened it and ran the balm over her lips, which Fitz had been so recently kissing. His eyes followed the movements of her hand and how her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she…

“Does it work?” Phil asked.

“Does what work?” Fitz looked down. It was trying to work right now.

Phil chuckled. “Does the watch work?”

Oh. Fitz took a deep breath in through his nose and returned to his dinner. “Mostly. My biggest limitation is the size of some of the components. It looks clunky right now, but I haven’t had the time to make some of the parts smaller yet. My boss thinks it’s frivolous, so I’m not allotted much time or money for the project.”

Phil’s face smoothed out. “It doesn’t sound frivolous to me.”

“Or me,” Jemma said.

Fitz shrugged. They weren’t the ones that meted out his sadly limited budget.

“Actually,” Jemma paused, and her voice switched to her undercover one. “Actually, my dad is totally into that kind of thing. Old stuff. You should see his car!”

George, his arm around Brad, stopped by their table. “Hi!” George said. “What did I say about the lecture? I was right, wasn’t I?”

Brad made a show of rolling his eyes. “He’s always like this,” he stage-whispered.

“It was excellent,” Fitz said.

“You were right,” Jemma said with a smile. “George, Brad—” she pointed each one out. “This is my dad, Phil. And Dad, these are two wonderful people we met here.”

“Hawaiian plate,” Brad said. “Nice choice. The taro is amazing.”

“Your daughter is wonderful.” George nodded at Jemma. “As is her boyfriend. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more in love.”

Fitz felt his ears burning. This entire dinner had been mortifying.

“I agree,” Phil said. “On all accounts. It’s why I stopped over here on the way back from a business trip.”

Brad tugged on his husband’s sleeve. “Let’s let them finish dinner. I still need to find a restroom. The one close by is being cleaned.”

“It was good to meet you,” Phil said.

“We’ll see you later,” Jemma said, and Fitz echoed her.

“And don’t worry,” George said, giving Fitz an exaggerated wink. “Your big secret is safe with us.”

Brad rolled his eyes again as the couple walked away.  Fitz frowned as a man with dark hair and a coat that didn’t match how hot it was stepped away from the wall and followed behind George and Brad. 

“Is that Popov?” Fitz asked Jemma in a low voice. 

“Maybe?” she replied. “I don’t know what he’s doing here.” 

It was almost like Popov was following George and Brad, but that didn’t make sense. He’d have to text Hunter and Mack to look into later. 

“Big secret?” Phil asked once Fitz and Jemma returned their attention to him. 

Fitz rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…”

****

Jemma didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as Fitz shifted uneasily in his chair.

Babies were something that she’d had little time to think about as she’d rushed from one academic achievement to the next. Sticky fingers, nappies, and rompers were nowhere on her agenda. Only what if the dears had curly hair and big blue eyes?

She squished that thought. Not living on the same continent as Fitz was going to make procreating rather difficult.

It wouldn’t be soon, regardless of their geographical locations. What guy would want to derail his spy career for a family?

She sighed.

Fitz’s adam’s apple bobbed.

“They think I’m pregnant,” Jemma said, watching with amusement as Fitz scrunched down in his seat. It was almost like he’d forgotten Coulson wasn’t truly her dad.

Coulson made a noncommittal sound. “Well, you two do certainly appear to be very much in love.”

Fitz’s knife clanked against his plate, and Jemma nearly choked on the salad in her mouth.

“Um, thank you?” she said, coughing.

Fitz was darting desperate glances out of the corner of his eye at her.

“If I didn’t know better,” Coulson continued. “I think it was real.”

Jemma tried to smile. Her side was real, at any rate.

“We’re doing our best,” Fitz said as he studied the top of the table.

Coulson was looking at her enigmatically, and she had to scoot her foot over to bump Fitz’s for moral support.

Something clicked in her brain a second later. Fitz’s head came up at the same moment.

“Closed bathroom,” he said.

Jemma looked at him. “If it’s really being cleaned—”

“The janitor. That’s who’s—”

“—passing the information—”

“—perfect cover—"

“—got to tell the teams. The drone—”

“—could be compromised.”

They both pulled out their phones, only to have alerts fire off at the same time.

Jemma gasped. “It’s Daisy,” she hissed. “There’s been another attempt on the Stark device.”

“I thought they switched rooms. Someone is definitely feeding the Russians inside information.” Fitz’s brows drew together. “Oh god.”

“What?”

“Bobbi’s been hurt. Stabbed.” He looked up. “She’s refusing a hospital. Doesn’t want to leave her post. Mack’s asking I bring you.”

Jemma squished down the irrational wave of jealousy at how concerned Fitz looked over his ex. “Let’s go,” she said tersely. Bobbi had better not have gotten stabbed on purpose to somehow try and get back with Fitz. Jemma winced. That was uncharitable. A woman was hurt.

A woman who Fitz had kissed—

Ugh. Jemma had to get a hold of herself before she tried to patch anyone up.

“I’ll pay for dinner,” Coulson said, waving at them while looking at his own phone. “And plan to work on the drones as soon as this situation is contained. Tell Bobbi I hope she feels better.”

“Thank you,” Jemma mumbled as Fitz dragged her away with a hand on her arm. Terrific, Coulson knew Bobbi as well? 

In the elevator, Jemma pressed a quick kiss to Fitz’s lips, and he hugged her close until they reached the third floor and the doors clanged open.


	16. Hale Wehewehe

Mack flung open the door before they even had a chance to knock, his eyes going straight to Jemma. “You’ve got medical training, right?” Jemma nodded, and Mack looked relieved. “Great, she’s in here.”

Jemma stepped into the room, immediately spotting Bobbi sitting with her back propped against the wall and a towel that had been white at one time but was now mostly red pressed against her thigh. Beside her, Fitz made a strange, gasping noise that Jemma wasn’t sure how to interpret, other than to pray he wasn’t suddenly realizing his ex was the love of his life. 

“I told you, Mack, I’ll be fine!” Bobbi hissed. “It just looks bad.”

“And I told you we’re all on the same side,” Mack replied. “Stop being so damn difficult, I get enough of that from Hunter.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, this isn’t that big a deal. We should be concentrating on finding those guys, this wasn’t some amateur hour like last time.”

Jemma stiffened. Was that a crack at her inexperience in the field?

“Let me see,” Jemma said, straightening her spine and crossing the room, reminding herself that she was here to administer medical help, no matter how rude Fitz’s ex was. She sank down to her knees beside Bobbi, who eyed her warily before allowing Jemma to peek under the towel. Jemma quickly assessed the damage, confirming that no major arteries had been hit. The muscle seemed to have borne the brunt of it. “A few stitches and some rest and you’ll be fine.” Jemma sat back. “Rather a convenient spot to be stabbed in, really.”

Bobbi’s eyebrows lifted and Jemma flushed. She hadn’t really meant to say that last part out loud. “Um, that’s good, I guess?” Bobbi replied.

Jemma shook herself. “I’ll need some supplies,” she said, pressing the towel back against Bobbi’s wound. “And,” she swallowed a sigh, “We’ll have to cut off that trouser leg so I can see everything a bit better.” Fantastic, now she was helping Fitz’s ex flash her legs at everyone. This was turning into a wretched evening. First, the strange dinner with Coulson that had only reminded her Fitz was leaving soon, and now she had to help the women who had been his girlfriend, a real one, likely for much longer than two weeks. Jemma tried to squash the rising jealousy down, feeling it curdle in her stomach.

“I’ll get whatever you need,” Fitz volunteered from across the room.

Jemma turned, expecting to see him gazing worriedly at Bobbi, only to find he was staring at the opposite wall. He also looked a bit green. She knew he shouldn’t have ordered whatever that concoction was at dinner. “Fitz?”

“He’s always been kinda squeamish around blood,” Bobbi said, smiling a little.

“Yes, well, that’s a very natural reaction to seeing terrible injuries,” Jemma snapped back. “And I think it shows quite a lot of empathy. It’s a very noble trait that many people would appreciate.”

“Wait, I thought Bobbi wasn’t hurt that bad?” Mack said.

“I totally appreciate it,” Bobbi said quickly. Jemma glared at her, pressing down firmly on the towel. “Uh, but not too much?” 

“Thanks, I think?” Fitz replied, sounding confused.

Bobbi’s eyes darted to the door as someone tried the knob, then banged loudly on the other side. “Bobbi?” a man’s frantic voice called. “Bob? You in there?”

Mack opened the door and Fitz’s other team member—Hunter, Jemma recalled—tumbled through the doorway, his eyes going directly to Bobbi. “What the hell happened?” he exclaimed, dumping what looked like twice as many medical supplies as Jemma would need on the neatly made bed and putting his hands on his hips. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Hunter.” Bobbi sounded relieved. “Thank god you’re here, I didn’t know who else to call, besides you, because you’re my ex-husband.” She placed a strange emphasis on the latter part of her sentence and Jemma wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out if there was some hidden meaning she was missing.

“Did you just…oh my god, you’re dying.” Hunter dropped to his knees on Bobbi’s other side, putting his hand next to Jemma’s on the blood-soaked towel. “Why the hell are we all just standing around? We’ve got to get you to a hospital!”

“She’s not dying,” Jemma said wearily. “Did you bring any scissors, by chance?”

Hunter wordless pulled out a wicked-looking knife and passed it over, his brow furrowed. “Did you hit your head, then?” He leaned in closer to Bobbi. “Quick, what’s your name?”

“Hunter,” Bobbi hissed, and Jemma watched with interest as they seemed to have an entire conversation with their eyebrows that ended when Hunter sat back on his heels, looking more relaxed. “Anyway, thanks for the help, Jemma,” Bobbi said. “I met all these guys after I was dumb enough to marry this one.” She jerked her chin at Hunter. “It’s nice to know my friends have someone like you looking out for them.”

“Friends,” Jemma echoed, the knot between her shoulders slowly loosening. She hefted the knife in her hand and Bobbi nodded emphatically. “Oh.” Well, perhaps Jemma had gotten a bit ahead of herself, assuming Bobbi was Fitz’s ex before she’d had all the facts. Which meant Fitz probably wasn’t going to run away with Bobbi the minute Jemma patched her up and Bobbi hadn’t stabbed herself to get his attention and Jemma was looking quite foolish. Jemma let Hunter take over towel duty while she cut away Bobbi’s trouser leg. Bobbi helped her straighten out and lift the fabric away from her skin as Jemma worked, being as careful as she could in a silent apology for being so rude. 

“Uh, have we finished with the bloody part yet?” Fitz asked.

“Nope. I wouldn’t turn around,” Mack replied, sounding amused. “Bobbi’s right though, we’re running out of time to stop these guys. Stark’s presentation is tomorrow. Did Coulson tell you guys the plan?”

“Drone-deployed EMP? Yeah, Phil, er, Coulson, told us what he wanted,” Fitz said. “We’re working on it after this, right Jemma?”

Hunter had swapped out the towel for several pieces of gauze as Jemma finished with the knife and passed it back, trading it in for a pair of gloves. Bobbi handed her the sterile kit she’d need to make the sutures as Fitz caught Jemma’s eye from across the room questioningly. She nodded, and he quickly averted his gaze again before she began to stitch. “Yes, this won’t take long, we’ll head to the Bus when we’re done,” Jemma said.

“Good.” Mack stood up from the bed. “In the meantime, I’m gonna go catch the others up on all this. You guys hold down the fort.”

“Sorry, I don’t have any numbing agent,” Jemma said sympathetically.

Bobbi’s eyes were trained on the ceiling. “It’s fine, Hunter owes me a bottle of tequila anyways.”

“I do not! I paid that back in Singapore.”

“That was the bourbon you owed me.”

Hunter paused. “Oh, right, for the horses. But I still don’t owe you any tequila.”

Jemma suppressed a smile as they quietly began to bicker, though from the way Bobbi’s fingers were curled around Hunter’s arm and his steady hand as he helped Jemma hold the wound closed, it appeared to be their normal state of being. She met Fitz’s eyes across the room and he smiled at her, making her heart lighten. Already she was dreading returning to regular duty, and she usually loved her job, and her team. It was going to be so hard to give him up when this was over.

***

After a quick stop in their room for cleanup and to change into clothes appropriate for the lab, Fitz, Jemma and one of the drones found themselves squished into the back of a cab, speeding along a winding road as the sun set over the ocean. Fitz curled his arm around Jemma while she texted May to let her know they were on the way. Her phone chimed a couple times and Jemma finally relaxed with a sigh, her head against Fitz’s shoulder. He brushed a kiss across her temple, ostensibly for the benefit of the cab driver, but mostly because he just wanted to.

“You were amazing,” he murmured in her ear. Jemma glanced up at him, looking startled and pleased, and he wished he could come up with something more adequate to explain just how incredible she was. The things she’d said about him at dinner had stunned him, making him feel ten feet tall even though her boss’s interrogation had been nerve-wracking. He still didn’t have a firm grasp on why the Agent in Charge wanted to meet in the middle of an op, but whatever it had been about, he hoped Coulson had gotten the information he needed.

“Going to experience a little local cuisine, huh?” the cab driver asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Their garlic shrimp is the best on the island, you won’t be disappointed.”

“Garlic shrimp?” Fitz said, perking up.

Jemma elbowed him. “Maybe later,” she whispered.

“I’m holding you to that,” he whispered back.

“There’s a place around the corner that does great shave ice, too, if you’ve got room for dessert,” the cab driver said, pulling up to the curb outside of an open-air restaurant. It was packed with tables and people.

“Thanks.” Fitz paid him and followed Jemma out of the cab, taking her hand when she reached for him while reading a message on her phone.

“This way,” she murmured, threading through the crowd and leading him out to the sidewalk on the other side of the block. They turned a corner and Jemma stopped, looking around with a faint frown.

“What…” Fitz began as a black sedan pulled up to the curb, it’s windows all rolled down.

“Get in,” he heard a woman’s voice say. 

Fitz pulled Jemma back, taking a step so his body was mostly in front of hers. “Fitz,” she said, sounding exasperated. “It’s May. Get in the car.” He sheepishly climbed into the back with Jemma beside him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you keep doing that,” Jemma said quietly, settling her hand on his knee. “I don’t need defending, you know. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

He lifted one shoulder, not sure how to explain his overprotectiveness without blurting out that he was completely in love with her and he’d be happy to spend forever throwing himself between her and danger if she’d let him.

That might be a bit much, considering they’d only met a little over a week ago.

“I know,” he finally settled on saying.

Jemma gave him a smile that set his pulse racing, and her hand began to slide up his thigh. Fitz’s eyes dropped to her mouth as she leaned in, her breasts pressing against his bicep.

“We’re in the clear, you weren’t followed. Call me when you’re done and someone will come get you,” May said, taking a sharp right onto a dirt road and causing Fitz to abruptly thump back down to earth. Right. There was no need to maintain their cover right now, even if he desperately wanted to maul Jemma in the back of the car to show her what he couldn’t seem to find the words for. “Whoever was leaving the coordinates didn’t add any this last time and since the drone might have been compromised, we’re in a holding pattern. Daisy’s vetting the staff.”

Jemma dropped her gaze and her cheeks turned pink as she scooted away from Fitz, though she didn’t remove her hand from his leg. “Of course, May, thanks.” She nibbled on her lower lip and Fitz almost groaned aloud, wishing he could do the same. “Um, we’re not sure how long it’ll take. It could be a while.”

Fitz didn’t think it would be more than an hour or two, really, if Jemma’s lab was as well-equipped as he’d been led to believe. There was bound to be some kind of EMP, he just had to figure out how to attach it to the drone. Between the two of them, it should be a quick modification. Then Jemma’s hand crept a bit higher up his thigh and Fitz decided it could take as long as she wanted.

“Take whatever time you need,” May said. “There’s a break in the fence ten yards up, the Bus is in the big hanger.” Fitz braced himself against the back of the driver’s seat as they came to a sudden stop beside a chain-link fence, reaching out with his other arm to stop Jemma from being flung about as well. She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like the beginning of a laugh and he glanced her way to find her watching him, her eyes bright and happy.

“Thanks, May.” Jemma opened the car door and tugged Fitz out after her.

They found the opening in the fence without issue. It looked freshly cut and Fitz held it back for Jemma before following her through. They hurried across the tiny airfield towards a large, neglected-looking hanger and Fitz looked around doubtfully, wondering how great this lab could be based on the limited size of the aircraft that could land here.

A minute later, staring up at the plane in front of him, he was enormously glad he hadn’t said anything. How had it landed? He narrowed his eyes at it. Wait, were those reversible thrusters? “Come on, Fitz.” Jemma grasped at his arm, her smile wide. “Wait until you see the lab. Coulson got me everything on my wish list when I came aboard, and I’d put some things on there that really had nothing to do with biochem. He was very keen to have me on his team for some reason.”

“Of course he was,” Fitz said automatically. “Anyone would be crazy not to want you, Jemma.”

She laughed, even though he’d been deadly serious, and dragged him into the plane and towards a set of glass doors. “Here it is,” she said, sounding breathless. She was watching him closely as he took it all in. The banks of monitors, the equipment lining the walls, the neatly labeled drawers and cupboards—clearly Jemma’s doing—and dead center, a beautiful, gleaming holotable. Fitz made a positively embarrassing noise as Jemma trailed her hand across the surface and turned to look at him. “What do you think?”

Fitz was sure he was gaping like a fish as he tried to process it all, thinking of his shabby desk littered with electronic parts shoved in the corner of the lab he shared with six other engineers. God, if he had a place like this, he could do practically anything, make whatever they needed, and be an honest-to-god innovator instead of trying to squeeze in time for his designs between repairing the damn missile systems and other assorted gadgets in the cars MI6 assigned their agents. He swallowed heavily and tried to find his voice. “It’s-”

“Great, isn’t it?” Jemma clasped her hands together, sounding delighted. “Oh, watch this.” She spun around and pushed a few buttons before sliding her hands across the now-glowing table. “Ready?” Lifting her arms, she raised what looked like a blueprint for an engine up out of the depths of the table, the yellow and blue lines lighting up her eager expression. Fitz felt like he might cry. He’d never seen any two things more beautiful in his entire life.

Slowly, he walked over to stand next to Jemma, staring at the glowing image in front of him. He was right, it was an engine, something from the plane, maybe? “Have you used one?” Jemma asked. He shook his head wordlessly, reaching out to prod at a gear casing he wished he could see behind. “Here,” Jemma said softly, laying her palm over the back of one of his hands and lifting it towards the piece he’d sent spinning in a lazy circle. “What do you want to do?”

“Remove it?” Fitz asked. “Er, just, trying to see how it’s attached.”

Jemma’s fingers were warm as she settled them directly over his and he concentrated on following her movements. “Gently now,” she murmured. “It’s quite sensitive.” Carefully, they plucked the cover off and sent it flying down to one end of the table. Fitz leaned in and Jemma grinned, holding out her other hand. “We need both for this,” she said.

Fitz stepped back just enough to let her slide between him and the table, enjoying how she leaned back against him as they repositioned their hands so his palms were curved around the backs of hers and matching her finger positioning, letting her take the lead. He took a moment to appreciate how perfectly they seemed to fit together, pressing his cheek against the top of Jemma’s head as he watched her direct their hands to reach out and make some kind of tiny pinching movement before spreading their arms apart, causing the part he was looking at to grow exponentially in size.

Fitz’s breath hitched as he took in all the details, wrapping his arms around Jemma and holding her close. “Incredible,” he whispered in her ear. She shivered in his arms and he nosed along her neck, leaving kisses in his wake. She drew in a shuddering breath and tipped her head back against his shoulder, turning her face towards him so he could finally kiss her the way he’d been dying to since they’d left their hotel room.

He drove his tongue into her mouth, desperate to taste her as she moaned against his lips and ground against his prick, which had begun making itself known immediately after he’d realized they were finally alone again and only gotten worse the more of her lab she’d showed him. He could easily picture her there, standing at the microscope stashed in one corner or working through a problem at a nearby desk with a lab coat carefully hung over the back of the chair. He wanted so badly to be in that image somewhere, even if it just meant making this moment as unforgettable as he could.

***

Nothing this exciting had ever happened to Jemma in the lab before, not even the time she discovered a way to neutralize a poisonous alien gas. She’d have to tell Fitz about that sometime, she was sure he’d appreciate the difficulties involved in the process. She certainly could have used his expertise in getting the neutralizing agent distributed throughout the plane. Daisy was excellent with computers, but engineering wasn’t her forte.

Fitz’s kisses were making her toes curl and while Jemma had kind of been hoping he might be amenable to this sort of thing once they were alone, she hadn’t expected his attention to reach quite this level of intensity. One of his hands worked its way under her shirt and he reached up to cup her breast, plucking her nipple through the fabric of her bra and making her groan. She reached back to grasp his ass, reveling in the feel of his erection rubbing against her.

“Jemma,” he gasped in her ear, breaking their kiss and tugging her hip until she turned so he could pin her against the table face to face. She eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck as he growled against her mouth and fumbled with her shirt buttons. She loved to hear him say her name. It might be her new favorite sound, besides the noise he made when she…sliding her hand down his chest, she caressed his cock through his trousers, making him moan as he dropped his forehead to her shoulder.

Yes, that was definitely her first favorite.

God, she was so wet. She hadn’t planned on things going quite this far, but there was no way she was going to ask him to stop. She’d just have to improvise, which wasn’t her strong suit, but surely Fitz wouldn’t mind. He’d gotten her blouse mostly undone and was currently kissing his way down her throat, heading for her cleavage. Jemma managed to stop touching him for just long enough to reach back, feel for the edge of the holotable, and lift herself so she could sit on it. Fitz looked up, his expression dazed and a concerned frown marring his features.

“Um, shouldn’t we be careful of the table?” he asked.

Jemma clutched his shirt in one hand and pulled him forward until he was situated between her legs. “They tested it for use in planes, battleships, helicarriers, and space, Fitz. It’s quite sturdy.” The blue and yellow lights from the blueprint bathed his face in a lovely glow, and she traced one holographic wire that trailed down his jaw and across his shirt. Fitz’s worried expression cleared and he tugged her close, giving her another searing kiss that seemed to imprint itself on her soul.

“Battle-tested?” he murmured. Jemma nodded as his hands trailed down her sides before he hooked a finger into the waistband of her trousers. “I didn’t bring condoms,” he said regretfully.

“Me neither,” Jemma sighed, wrapping her legs around his waist so she could feel his erection rubbing against her center. “Next time.”

Fitz’s smile was nearly brighter than the lights surrounding them. “Let me try something else?” he asked, slowly undoing the button and zip of her trousers.

Jemma began to feel a bit lightheaded as his fingers stroked her through her panties. “Yes,” she managed.

“Lie back,” he whispered, stooping to kiss the tops of her breasts as she slowly leaned back, propping herself on her elbows so she could watch him. She lifted her hips so he could pull her trousers and pants down as far as they’d go, tangling around her ankles until he impatiently tugged off one of her sneakers and freed one leg. Jemma watched, fascinated, as he sank to his knees, hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, and began to kiss his way up her inner thigh, his hands pushing her legs further apart. She couldn’t catch her breath, her chest heaving, as he nosed along the crease of her thigh where it met her pelvis and the scratch of his stubble sent electric shocks up her spine.

“Fitz,” she gasped.  

His first, tentative exploration of her vagina nearly propelled her off the table, and her eyes rolled back in her head as he grew bolder, driving his tongue inside of her and finding a rhythm that made her hips pop up off the table. She could hear herself babbling, though she really had no idea what she was saying, other than possibly his name over and over again. The world had been reduced to just the two of them, and nothing else mattered but the delicious orgasm she could feel coiling in her belly.

Jemma had long ago collapsed flat on her back on the table, watching the lights swirl overhead as the table tried to interpret what it thought they were asking it to do and Fitz proceeded to completely ruin any possibility of her finding satisfaction with other sexual partners. His mouth found her clit and he pushed two fingers inside of her as he sucked on it, making her favorite noise as he did so. It was too much. Jemma bowed up off the table, one hand clutching his hair as her climax hit, crackling through her veins like tiny fireworks.

Slowly, the tingling subsided, and she was able to draw breath again, inhaling deeply and letting out a long, happy sigh. The lights around her had slowed to a stop, and she had no idea what part of the plane that was. Huh.

Fitz was kissing the insides of her thighs, his thumbs caressing her hips, and—wait, that hadn’t been her backup plan at all. Jemma shakily managed to prop herself back up on her elbows so she could see Fitz, who got to his feet, looking incredibly pleased with himself. A moment later, he frowned, and she panicked for a second before he reached out to poke at the lights. “I don’t recognize this.”

Jemma smothered a smile and scooted down so she could slip off the table and stand in front of Fitz while he prodded at the schematics they’d sent in every direction. “Maybe it’s something they added,” she said, her hands sliding down to his belt and then lower, happily confirming she could stick to her plan after all. Fitz’s eyelids fell to half-mast as she traced the line of his erection. “Coulson loves experimental things.”

Fitz groaned in a way that left her unsure if he was reacting to her words or her hands, but either way, she’d drawn that noise from him and she wanted to do it again. “What does it remind you of?” she asked, slowly undoing his belt buckle. Her legs had finally stopped wobbling from her orgasm and she was looking forward to returning the favor, but she also very much enjoyed watching him work.

His brow furrowed. “It looks like something meant to put out bursts of massive energy, almost like a rocket booster.” Jemma hummed and concentrated on undoing his trousers as Fitz braced himself against the table, his arms on either side of her, and kissed her neck. “Wouldn’t work though,” he breathed, nipping her earlobe as she slipped her fingers into the waistband of his pants and eased them down over his erection.

“Why not?” she asked, staring down in satisfaction and wrapping her hand around his cock. She felt his whole body shudder.

“Jemma,” he croaked. She stroked a hand soothingly down his chest and sank to her knees, drawing a whimper from him as his hands clutched the edge of the holotable in a white-knuckled grip. He really had a lovely penis, she decided, sliding her hand down from tip to base to make room for her mouth.

“Why won’t it work, Fitz?” she asked again, leaning forward and parting her lips, gently sucking the head of him into her mouth and circling it with her tongue.

“Holy hell,” he gasped. “Who knows, I don’t care. Please, Jemma.”

Well, apparently she’d have to get it out of him later, not that she minded. She drew another inch of him into her mouth and was rewarded with a groan as she began to bob her head, taking in more of him each time until her lips were touching the fist she still had wrapped around the base of his cock. This wasn’t something she had a lot of experience with, but she figured as long as he was making those noises above her, she was doing just fine. She could feel his thigh muscle quivering under her hand and she reached up to cradle his testicles, encouraged by his throaty moans.

She could feel herself growing wet again, listening to him swear, her name a barely recognizable pair of syllables as his accent got thicker. It was marvelously sexy. She pulled back, tracing the vein on the underside of his cock with the flat of her tongue and swirling it around the head once again before diving back in, sucking with enthusiasm, if not much skill. This wasn’t something she’d really considered practicing before, but she’d be happy to make sure she got it just right if he was going to enjoy it so much.

A hand tugged at her hair, forcing her to pull back and she looked up, alarmed she’d done something wrong, but his hand just slid down to cradle her cheek. “Gonna,” he made an embarrassed gesture that it took Jemma a moment to interpret.

“Oh!” She smiled up at him. “Well, that’s rather the point, isn’t it?” She didn’t give him a chance to reply before sliding her lips back over him and down as far as she could go, experimenting with some different tongue patterns to see what made him moan the loudest.

“Jemma,” he gasped, the hand in her hair tightening, but not pulling her away this time. She’d been prepared for it, but his orgasm still surprised her and it took a moment for her to remember to swallow. She closed her eyes as he finished in her mouth, feeling the tension slowly draining out of him until he was gently pulling her back and directing her gaze upward again, his thumb sweeping over her bottom lip. “The booster’s not enough for this behemoth, and the plane’s design is all wrong for space travel, anyway,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Jemma grinned up at him, climbing back to her feet and sliding her arms around his waist, feeling less silly about being half-naked as long as he was, too. “We’ll have to put that on the list of things to improve.”

His arms wrapped around her shoulders, and he kissed her temple. “Suppose we should work on the drone at some point,” he sighed.

Jemma stifled a laugh against his shoulder. “Yes, probably.”

“Damn,” Fitz muttered.

She patted his chest. “We’ll get you some garlic shrimp afterward.”

Fitz perked up. “Really?” She nodded, amused, as he bent to kiss her. “You’ll have to get some too. Now, point me toward the EMPs.”

This time Jemma didn’t hide her laugh as they stumbled apart and helped each other get dressed before she sent Fitz off to choose an EMP so she could clear their workspace. She closed the exploded plane blueprint he’d been so intrigued by, the smile slipping off her face as she that realized most of their imagined designs would probably remain imaginary after he went back home. It wouldn’t be easy for them to find more than a few days at a time to work together, and that was only if their agencies would allow it.

Jemma took a breath, willing herself not to cry, but to enjoy the time they had left together.

She was pulling her hair back and securing it with an elastic as Fitz came back. She smiled, hoping it reached her eyes. “Where should we start?”


	17. Kahakai

A buzz from his phone woke Fitz up. He didn’t reach for it, because that would mean he would have to do something besides what he was and that sounded terrible. He was on his back, Jemma a warm weight snuggled against his side. She was still asleep, so he felt free to just look and marvel at how much a single person had changed his entire life in only a handful of days.

When he got back to his department he was going to start to a campaign to get a holotable. Not that he’d ever be able to see one and not have an echo of Jemma’s taste in his mouth.

Fitz sighed.

Or imagine how her tongue had felt as she’d—

He hastily cut off that thought.

The other option was that table would be installed, and he’d see it and instantly dissolve into tears because he missed Jemma so much.

So he was either going to have an erection or cry. Possibly cry while having an erection. Maybe he shouldn’t ask for the table.

Jemma mumbled something in her sleep and pressed her face harder against him. He stroked her hair to soothe her, and she settled back down, her bare hip against his. He’d never been one to sleep naked, but a couple of nights in Jemma’s arms had sold him on the idea.

Fitz glanced at her face, relaxed in sleep, and slowly pulled the covers up so he could see all of her. He frowned a little at himself and wished he was taller, more muscled, or more anything that would keep her with him. Jemma was perfect. His eyes roved over her, drinking in every curve and angle of her body. Her breasts were smushed against his side, but he could see one nipple peeking out. She was rolled far enough on her belly that her rear was clearly visible and her legs were tangled with his. He was sorely tempted to see if he could get away with putting his hand on her arse, wanting to feel the smooth skin.

“Are you staring at my bum?” Jemma asked.

He yipped and dropped the covers. “Er…yes?” 

She laughed. 

“I didn’t know you were awake,” he added.

Jemma was smiling and didn’t seem the least upset, so Fitz relaxed.

“Mmm,” she groaned and stretched. Which felt really nice. “I’d stare at your bum too,” she said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

She would? He tried to puzzle that out but lost his train of thought when Jemma straddled his stomach and bent over to kiss him. His hands went to her hips, and after only a moment’s hesitation, he slid one down to palm her arse. It was intoxicating being able to touch her as much as he wanted.

Jemma moaned, and her tongue darted between his lips to stroke his. He made some ridiculous, happy noise, but then she gasped and sat bolt upright with her hand over her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed.

“I have morning breath,” she whispered.

That was a ridiculous thing to worry about. “So do I,” he said with a shrug, gently tugging Jemma’s hand away from her lips. He pushed himself upright, meaning to capture her mouth with his once more as a prelude to enjoying all of her again. Was there a reason to ever bother leaving the bed? Trousers were such a hassle.

He’d barely managed to nuzzle a giggling Jemma’s cheek when there was another buzz from his mobile.

Oh, right.

It could probably wait.

But then Jemma’s phone pinged, and his went off again.

He flopped back down, defeated, as Jemma climbed off him and retrieved her phone from her nightstand. His buzzed repeatedly, and Fitz rolled on his side, picking it up with a sigh.

There was a string of texts from Hunter, each one more urgent than the last. As he scrolled through them, a new one popped up.

**Hurry up and get your prick out of your girlfriend. Our friendly neighborhood Russian is following another couple to the beach, and I don’t think his intentions are good.**

Fitz sighed. Damn it.

**We just woke up** . He texted back **. It took a while to get the drone to be able to trigger the EMP correctly last night.**

**Is that what you’re calling it? Weird but whatever.**

Fitz pressed the button to turn his screen off and sat up.

Jemma was frantically texting back and forth with what he assumed was someone on her team.

“Remember how it looked like the Russians were following George and Brad? They’re doing it again. Ivanov was hanging out in the hotel foyer, and May saw him tail after them towards the beach,” she said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Daisy thinks that the Russians have realized someone is onto them, but have targeted the wrong people.”

“What?” Fitz rubbed his temple. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know.” She frowned. “Coulson wants us to keep an eye on them, and Ivanov if we can. If he thinks he’d been made, he might do something stupid.”

“Yeah, that’s more or less what I got from Hunter too.”

Another message lit up her phone and whatever it said made spots of color bloom in her cheeks. “We better get dressed,” she said, and he nodded and sat on the side of the bed. It took him another moment to gather enough courage to stand up and walk around naked in front of Jemma, and even then he hurried to the dresser, pulled out his swim trunks, and shut himself in the bathroom as quickly as possible.

After getting his teeth brushed and trying to fix his hair, he walked back out into the room and nearly had a heart attack. Jemma was standing in front of the mirror, putting her hair up, and wearing her red bikini.

It was different now that he knew how she felt and her taste and dear lord how was he supposed to watch anything else but her all day?

“Towels?” he asked after clearing his throat.

“I got them,” she said, gesturing at the bag on the bed. “We’ve missed breakfast, which seems to be becoming a habit, but I put I few things in there, and I suspect there will be plenty of places to buy food by the beach as well.”

“Yes, of course.”

She knotted her sarong around her waist and picked up a bottle of sunscreen.

Fitz turned around and took a deep breath, but this time when her hands spread the cold sunscreen on his back, it wasn’t overwhelming. He was simply able to enjoy how it felt as she rubbed, and he wiggled with pleasure. When she got to his front, he didn’t stop her, and while there was heat—because how could there not be?—it was tempered with the knowledge that he still had a little time with her. A few more nights to spend with the most amazing woman on earth.

When she drew her fingers over his face, she paused. “Is everything okay?”

He probably looked like the lovesick fool he was. So he didn’t answer. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Jemma and kissed her.

Jemma broke it a moment later. “We’d had, um…” Her voice was shaky. “We’d better get going.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak in case he blurted out every last one of the feelings of love and admiration he had for her, and followed her out into the hall. The sway of her hips was captivating.

It wasn’t far from the hotel to the resort’s private beach. The sun was shining brightly overhead, reflecting off the surf as it rolled onto the pale sand. A few gulls wheeled in the salt-scented breeze. It really was paradise. He put his arm around Jemma. There. Now everything was even better.

****

Jemma’s heart was soaring. If anyone had ever bothered to ask her what her dream vacation was, she would have described nearly exactly this. Only she would have been too scared to add in the part where she was sharing it with someone handsome who she loved.

And even her imagination would never have been able to conjure up someone like Fitz. Watching his sheer delight over the holotable had made her giddy, and a lot turned on. Not to mention working with him on the drones.

Her phone beeped again, and she read the message from Daisy, saying Coulson was out on a boat with the EMP equipped drone, trying to find the submarine. She typed a quick reply as Fitz bought some kind of teriyaki kabob from a vendor. He gave her a chicken and pineapple one, which turned out to be absolutely delicious. She savored it as they kicked off their flip flops and found a spot on the sand to spread out their towels.

George and Brad were seated under an umbrella not to far away, and when she caught their eye, they both raised their drinks in greeting, and she waved back.

Ivanov was seated at a small table, one of a handful that were scattered right at the edge of the sand, under a shade tree. He was dressed in a white shirt and khaki pants, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. He had a glass of something amber sitting on the table but wasn’t drinking it. Instead, he had his eyes fixed on George and Brad.

Jemma lounged on her towel, keeping Ivanov in view and reading an article on something completely boring while Fitz did the same. She couldn’t help herself though, with him being so close, and occasionally she had to lean over to kiss him, and nearly the entire time she was touching him. Her leg pressed against his, her hand aimlessly tracing over his back.

He was doing much the same, twisting her hair around his fingers or running his hands under the straps of her bikini top.

The sun’s warmth kicked up a notch around noon. It must have been too much for Ivanov because he gulped down the rest of whatever he was drinking and left to stalk back towards the hotel.

“Should we follow him?” she asked Fitz.

He quickly texted his team and shook his head in reply. “We’re to stay with Brad and George. May will intercept Ivanov and tail him.”

“I think they’re sleeping,” she said, looking over to where the couple was lying under their umbrella, both men had their eyes closed, and their heads were listing to the side.

Fitz stood and brushed the sand off his rear. “Hunter’s around here somewhere. He says he’s good if we want to go play in the surf for a while. That’s if you want to.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” She grinned and undid her sarong, letting it fall to the ground before catching Fitz’s hand and running with him into the waves.

It was cold as the water rushed around her knees and she screeched. Fitz laughed, but then lost his balance and sat down hard, pulling her along with him.

The next wave broke around their shoulders and left both of them sputtering.

Fitz wiped his eyes, leaned forward and kissed her and helped her back to her feet so they could wade a little further out.

Jemma paused when they reached just over waist-deep in the water and watched as Fitz jumped to catch the swell of a wave so that it carried him a few feet back towards the beach. She wrung her hands and looked around.

“Something wrong?” he asked, coming up beside her.

“Most shark attacks occur in water this deep,” she whispered.

He looked heavenward. “I don’t think the sharks are going to hear you and get any ideas.” He nodded towards the beach. “And there are several lifeguards and quite a few people out here.” He put a hand on her back. “We’re safe. Here, let me help you relax. Lie back.”

She did as he asked, floating on her back in the water. Fitz moved them out until he was chest deep. His arms held her as he kept her sideways to the waves, letting them rock her.

Jemma closed her eyes and let herself just be and simply exist among the sun, sand, and water.

Fitz kept stealing kisses.

She was somewhere beyond happy. Had crossed right over to content. She hoped Fitz knew, even just a little bit, how much she loved him.

****

They played in the water for a while longer, ending with a rather spectacular splash war.

Laughing, they stumbled back to the beach and shared a bottle of sun-warmed water.

“We need to get the salt off,” Jemma said. “Before we get itchy.”

Fitz shaded his eyes and scanned the edges of the beach. “Showers are over there,” he said, pointing. Squinting, Jemma could make out a series of green wooden cubicles set back behind a row of palms. “Looks like George and Brad are having a snack, so we should be good.”

Jemma quickly repacked their beach gear and followed Fitz to the showers. She was having a difficult time focusing on anything besides him and his lovely back and nice rear. Her fingers were tingling with the need to touch.

She wondered if he…she could barely form the thought herself. But their room seemed so far away, and the showers were right here.  

The shower cubicles were mostly deserted, and Jemma led Fitz down to the very last one. His eyes went wide as she pushed him inside the cubical and squished in beside him. She set the tote bag on a stool in the corner and undid her sarong. Wadding it up, she shoved it in the top of the bag.

The faucet handle creaked as she cranked it on, but thankfully the water wasn’t freezing.

Fitz cupped her cheeks with his hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth. In the sunlight, his eyes were impossibly blue, and his brows drew together as his mouth opened. It looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he kissed her.

Jemma melted against him. She put an arm around his neck, and her other hand dropped to his rear. Fitz moaned and pushed her blindly back against the wooden wall of the shower stall, one of his hands going to grip the top of it and the other going to her breast.

Desire raced through her from where he was rubbing her nipple against his palm to her sex, lighting a fire that had her mewling and pushing her hips towards him.

“Jemma,” he said, the sound rumbling through his chest. He kissed from her mouth to her neck, and his hand trailed down to her rear, his fingers fanning out over her backside as he held her steady and thrust against her.

He was hard, his erection straining against the front of his swim trunks. The feel of his cock grinding against Jemma’s belly made her knees weak. She was already slick with wanting him, her pussy aching with a need that thrummed along with the need in her heart.

She loved him. She wanted him.

Waiting became impossible. Jemma pushed Fitz’s shorts down and wrapped her hand around his shaft.

“Fitz, need you,” she panted.

“Need you…oh, bloody hell.” His face twisted into a scowl. “Same problem as last night.”

“What?”

“Condoms.”

She grinned as she slowly pumped his cock. “I brought some.”

“Bless you.”

She let go of him and scrabbled around until she could reach the bag. The water from the showerhead was still coming down, plastering Fitz’s curls to his head and running down his back. She probably looked just as bedraggled, with the top of her bikini askew and her hair stuck to her shoulders. But all she cared about was the desperate, hungry look on Fitz’s face.

She pulled a condom out of the bag’s inside pocket and opened it, dropping the wrapper back into the bag. Fitz took it from her.

“Turn around,” he said, voice hoarse. Jemma did, bracing her hands on the side of the stall. Fitz stepped behind her but froze when other voices, laughing and hollering came from the other end of the showers. A couple of the doors banged closed, and the showers started up.

Her breathing was loud in her ears. Behind her, Fitz gave a slight groan as his fingers rubbed the fabric covering her pussy. She gasped softly and rolled her hips against his hand.

“Jemma,” he rasped again.

Her heart was beating wildly, and she barely recognized herself as she nodded her assent. Had it been less than two weeks since she’d been on the phone with Daisy, worried and upset about whatever idiot she was going to be paired with?

If she’d known then that she’d be trembling with desire against the wall of a public shower stall with several other people only a few doors down while said not-such-an-idiot pulled the crotch of her red bikini bottoms to the side, she probably would have run home and hid under the blankets on her couch.

But then she might never have known what it felt like to unexpectedly fall in love.

The head of Fitz’s cock brushed her leg, and then he was pushing into her, and she couldn’t think about much else. His thrusts were fast and hard, but she kept up with him, rolling her hips back every time he plunged inside her. The front of her swimwear was pulled tight over her clit and rubbing against it just right. Her eyes closed, and she nearly forgot where she was as her stomach tightened.

Fitz was mouthing the back of her neck as he shagged her, one arm hooked around her and the other hand continuing to grip the top of the stall.

Her head fell back, and she peaked with a startled exhale of breath, her legs trembling and hips jerking. She probably would have fallen if Fitz hadn’t been holding her up. Once she was stable, his hips moved faster, and he groaned softly.

“Jemma, oh…Jemma,” he said under his breath. “Jemma, I…I…” He thrust forward hard, driving deep into her, and she could feel his cock pulsing with his release. For long moments they both stood under the tepid water, breathing harshly.

When he pulled out of her to strip the condom off, it was difficult for her not to grab him and insist he not let go of her. She was going to need the start birth control pills. Because she had to see him again. These handful of days couldn’t be the end of their story.

She shut the water off and wiped her eyes. There were a few awkward seconds as they dealt with the used condom, which Jemma had Fitz drop in an empty plastic bag that she then buried near the bottom of the tote. They both toweled off, straightened their swimwear, and did their best to try not to look like they just been getting it on in almost-public.

As Fitz fussed with his hair on more time, she tilted her head back, gazing up at the clear sky she could see through the palm fronds overhead. Fitz stood beside her and looked up as well, and she leaned against his shoulder.

A startled male cry and the sound of a gun being cocked broke their reverie.

“Don’t hurt us,” a voice that sounded very much like George said. “I’ve got some cash on me. A watch. Take what you want.”

Jemma shared a look with Fitz before they undid the stall door as quietly as they could and crept towards where the voice had come from, which was behind the row of shower stalls. Hidden amid the palm trees and hibiscus was Ivanov, a gun pointed at a terrified George and Brad.

Where the hell was May?

“You can cut the act now,” Ivanov hissed. “Who are you working for? The CIA? SHIELD?”

“I work for Harborview Hospital,” George said. “I’m a surgeon.”

Ivanov scoffed. “No more stories.” He swung the gun towards Brad. “Or someone dies.”

Jemma had her hand on Fitz’s arm as she carefully set her bag down. This time, with the gun pointed somewhere besides her and Fitz, the exact thing she needed to do to disarm Ivanov was as clear as a bell to her. And they had to. Brad and George were just civilians. She and Fitz were the agents. Their cover wasn’t more important than people’s lives.

She looked up into his face, and he nodded at her. She indicated with her chin and an eyebrow what he should do, and he gave another firm gesture of understanding.  

Tapping her forefinger on his arm to count to three, they launched themselves through the bushes. Fitz slammed into Ivanov’s back at the same time that Jemma used a disarming maneuver on the gun she’d only ever practiced in a classroom.

It felt like she was moving in slow motion as she grabbed the barrel. 

The gun went flying, and after she got over her surprise at the maneuver actually working, she grabbed the pistol and turned it on Ivanov as he was picking himself up from where he’d ended up sprawled on the ground.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You two? You are good.” His eyes darted back and forth between them. “Weren’t you just having some fun in the showers?”

Jemma’s cheeks heated up.

“It’s just cover,” Fitz said, though his face was flushed as well. Even his ears were red.

Ugh, they were clearly not as good at being sneaky as she thought.

“Sure,” Ivanov said with a raised eyebrow.

There was a screech from close by and Jemma glanced towards it. She must have wavered on where she was pointing the gun, because by the time she figured out it was a just a kid playing around, Ivanov had kicked his legs out at Fitz, who stumbled out of the way as Ivanov rolled to his feet. He darted out of the brush and disappeared almost instantly among the knots of beachgoers.

Jemma sighed and lowered the gun. She retrieved her tote bag and dropped the weapon into it to give to Daisy later.

“If we’d had a night-night gun we could have just iced him,“ Fitz muttered as he punched a message into his phone. Jemma went to sit beside George and Brad, who both looked stunned and had ended up cross-legged on the ground.

“Sorry about that.” She patted George’s knee.

“We were just tossing some trash,” George said. His head swiveled to face her. “You guys are…secret agents?”

She smiled and grit her teeth. “Well, yes.”

George turned back to Brad, and they gaped at each other.

“That’s so cool!” Brad said, eyes wide. “But, wait…you’re not really a couple then?”

Jemma fidgeted with the hem of her sarong. She didn’t know how to answer that. Fitz was still frowning at his phone but glanced up as if he could feel her eyes on him.

“It’s…complicated,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

George and Brad both grinned.

“Okay, I’m glad I’m not completely blind,” George said. “So are you guys, like, James Bond? License to kill?”

“Oh goodness, no,” Jemma said.

Fitz spoke at the same time. “Not remotely.”

They both paused, and Jemma waved a hand at Fitz to continue.

“We’re both more the behind the scenes lab type of people,” he said.

“Which is why you blew your cover,” Hunter said, striding between several palm trees. “And lost the bad guy.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Jemma huffed. “May wasn’t here. I couldn’t shoot into a crowd, or let him hurt two people who are just here for the conference.”

Hunter put his hands up. “Just saying I could have taken him out without doing either.”

“You mean Bobbi could have.” Fitz stuck his phone in his pocket and walked over to help Jemma to her feet.

“Same difference,” Hunter said. “Now run along and go debrief to Daisy and Mack. I’ll get things sorted here. May—christ, she’s scary—was trailing Ivanov, but lost him when he went out the side exit of one of the men’s rooms and doubled back. She did corner one of the staff members, a janitor going into the restroom. Turns out he had a gun on him. I’m personally glad I’m not the one she’s interrogating.”

Jemma had to agree.

Fitz took Jemma’s hand and wove his fingers between hers. They said quick goodbyes and reassurances to George and Brad before leaving Hunter to do his job, ambling back towards the hotel.  

“I’m sure we can keep the room,” Fitz said quietly as they walked. His face had clouded over.

Jemma’s heart sank. She hadn’t even thought about that. With the Russians aware of who they were, there was no reason left to pretend to be a couple. Or to pretend to pretend.

She squeezed his fingers tighter.

Surely there was still something for them to do? The mission wasn’t over for them, was it?

Fitz held on tightly to her as they entered the elevator.

Please, she silently begged.

Don’t let this be over.


	18. Ahi

They’d barely spoken on the way back to the hotel, tightly clutching one another’s hands. In the elevator, Fitz had pulled Jemma close and she’d leaned against him, breathing him in and wishing they could go back and live this day all over again without the horrible Russian confrontation. It had been so close to perfect. 

Daisy’s hotel room door was ajar, and they entered to find Mack pacing the floor, speaking to someone on the phone while Daisy stared intently at her two laptop screens.

Dread pooled in Jemma’s stomach as she reluctantly released Fitz’s hand. She hated that she no longer had an excuse to touch him when that was all she wanted to do.

“Hey,” Daisy said distractedly. “You two okay?”

Jemma nodded and pulled the gun from her tote. “This was Ivanov’s. Hunter said you figured out who the employee passing the information was?”

“Yeah.” Daisy frowned at one screen. “He’s already given May the sub’s next coordinates, I’m just trying to verify them. Put the gun over there.” She waved vaguely at the table behind her. “Jeez, you’d think a Russian spy wouldn’t have email this easy to hack into.”

“Yeah,” Mack said into the phone. “I’ll get them on it.” He ended the call, his brow creased as he looked at Fitz and Jemma. “You two okay?”

“We’re fine,” Fitz said. “Sorry about-”

Mack shook his head. “We’re just glad no one was hurt. Coulson’s on his way back in to pick up a couple more pairs of eyes for this sub hunt. No one’s seen Petrov all day and now Ivanov’s disappeared, but they can’t be far. The Stark device is debuting tonight and we’re in charge of making sure that goes smoothly, since the big man himself isn’t around.”

“What do you need us to do?” Jemma asked, hoping she didn’t sound nervous. Taking down a gunman with Fitz had seemed completely normal earlier, but now that the adrenaline had worn off she was realizing just how dangerous this mission had become, especially since they could no longer rely on their cover to protect them. Reaching out, she brushed the back of Fitz’s hand with her own, reassuring herself that he was still beside her. He caught her pinky with his, holding onto it and making her feel marginally better.

Mack ran a hand down his face. “Look, the Russians know who you are, but everyone else attending this conference doesn’t, so you’re going to keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

“We are?” Fitz sounded as surprised as Jemma felt, even as relief coiled through her. They weren’t going to be taken off the mission, thank god. Fitz wasn’t leaving quite yet. The thought of never seeing him again made her stomach churn.

“It’s not perfect.” Mack looked unhappy. “If the Russians do show up, they’re going to be ready for you, but it’s better than leaving all those people completely unprotected. And you’ll have some backup. Bobbi’s leading Stark’s security team, so she’ll be there after she’s done arguing with Hunter about whether or not she’s up to it, and Daisy’s going to fill in for one of the catering staff.” Mack hooked a thumb at Daisy, who wrinkled her nose.

“Yay, dish duty,” Daisy said without enthusiasm. “You know, next time I’m in Hawaii, I’d like it to involve a lot more beach time and cocktails.”

“And surfing,” Mack said. “Did you see those waves this morning?”

“I still haven’t had any huli-huli chicken,” Fitz added.

Jemma started to smile. “I think I’d just prefer fewer Russians. At least, the kind who are trying to kill us.”

“It’s a date,” Daisy said brightly, shooting Jemma a wink. Daisy’s expression turned serious a moment later, and Jemma tensed. Fitz’s thumb stroked the back of her hand. “Okay, the decryption’s finished and it looks like he’s telling the truth. We’ve got the sub’s next coordinates.”

“Send them to Coulson,” Mack instructed, typing a message into his phone. “I’ll grab Hunter and May on the way to meet him.”

“What about the guy with May?” Daisy asked.

“She said she’s got a friend who’ll call the cops when we’re done with him,” Mack said. He glanced at Jemma and Fitz. “You two better go get ready for dinner. We don’t have much time and we need eyes on this thing, just in case.”

Jemma nodded and Fitz’s hand migrated to her lower back as they headed for the door just behind Mack.

“Hey,” Daisy said. Jemma stopped and looked back at her friend. “Be careful, okay?”

“You too,” Jemma said.

***

“Do you have the…” Fitz started to ask just as Jemma unlocked their room. He almost smiled. Of course she had a key. She thought of everything, including condoms for their tryst in the beach showers earlier that he still couldn’t believe had actually happened. Thank god Hunter hadn’t caught them, or Fitz would be getting embarrassing videos for just about forever.

His life used to be so predictable. Get up, go to work, fix whatever the idiot MI6 agents had broken before trying to sneak a few minutes in for his own projects, get dragged out of the lab by Mack, or Hunter when he was in town, eat, sleep, repeat. It was a solid routine. Boring, maybe, but he’d thought it wasn’t half-bad.

Until he’d met Jemma.

She’d turned everything upside down and made him happier than he could ever remember being. He still had no clue what the hell he’d done to make her choose him, but he fervently wished their time together hadn’t come with an expiration date.

They entered their frigid hotel room, the AC humming happily under the window, and the door clicked closed behind him. Jemma shivered beside him. He could see her nipples standing at attention under the thin fabric of her bikini top and his prick stirred interestedly even as he sternly told it there wasn’t time.

At least they’d gotten a temporary reprieve before having to scrap the mission. One more night of working side by side, being allowed to touch whenever they wanted so that everyone would think they were a couple. Which they sort of were now, except they were still supposed to be pretending. But once they were done pretending, Fitz was hoping Jemma might want to try being together for real. Even though they lived on opposite sides of the world and worked for two different secret agencies.

Bloody hell, forget complicated, they were a tangled mess.

He slipped his arms around Jemma’s waist and she dropped her tote on the floor, turning to wrap her arms around him as well. She tipped her head back and he could see the wheels turning in her head. Whatever she was thinking, she hadn’t finished sorting it through just yet, so he enjoyed the lovely sight of her tits smushed against his chest while he waited for her to speak.

“You’re right, we really could use the night-night gun for missions like this,” Jemma said thoughtfully. “Do you think…Fitz?”

He jerked his gaze back up to her face guiltily, relaxing when he caught sight of her amused expression. Fitz slid his hands up the smooth skin of her back and under the strings somehow keeping her bikini top in place. “I think this was designed specifically to drive me crazy.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t designed to withstand much swimming,” Jemma replied, the edges of her mouth turning up. “I must have almost lost it in the surf a dozen times today.”

Fitz exhaled shakily, visions of a topless Jemma rising out of the ocean crowding out all the other thoughts in his brain.

“…do you think they might?”

Crap, she’d been saying something. “Uh, sorry, I missed that,” he admitted. “Who might?”

Jemma was chewing nervously on her lower lip. “Nevermind, I’m sure they have someone who could work on it with you when you get home again. It was a silly idea, what with our schedules and…”

“On the night-night gun?” Fitz blurted out, horrified, as he finally caught on to what she was talking about. “No! I mean, yes, it’ll be difficult to get everything approved, I’m sure, but I’m not going to work on it with someone else.” He couldn’t believe he’d just almost missed his opportunity to see Jemma again because he’d been busy daydreaming about her.

“Oh, good.” Jemma sounded relieved. “I just thought, well, it is your design, so of course you’re free to…”

“Jemma,” he murmured, lowering his head so their noses were nearly touching. “Want to work on the night-night gun with me after we stop these Russians?”

Jemma’s smile was brilliant. “Absolutely, but we’ve got to come up with a better name.”

Fitz snorted. “The name’s fine.”

Jemma rolled her eyes and started to open her mouth again, presumably to argue with him some more, but Fitz preferred to revel in the fact that she wanted to see him again, too. He sealed his lips against hers, teasing her tongue with his own and feeling her melt against him. Her hands slid down to grab his ass and he groaned into her mouth, tilting his head to find a better angle as he worked a hand between them so he could cup her breast.

He swept this thumb over her nipple, drawing a noise from her that was halfway between a whimper and a sigh that went straight to his prick. Breaking the kiss, Fitz lifted his head to figure out which directed the bed was in when he caught sight of the clock on the nightstand. “Shit. We really don’t have much time,” he said regretfully.

Jemma kissed him gently, then drew back, patting his chest. “Later, then.”

Fitz was almost positive that releasing his hold on Jemma in order to go take a shower alone was, up to this point, the most heroic thing he’d ever done.

***

“Ready?” Jemma asked, leaning over the dresser and adding another coat of mascara. She glanced in the mirror to check on Fitz and found him lounging on the bed and staring at her bum. She’d been catching him doing things like that all day, and honestly, it was kind of thrilling to know she affected him at least half as much as he did her.

She’d kept her outfit simple, a pair of trousers that skimmed her ankle and a filmy patterned tank top. It dipped down low enough in the front she would usually have worn something under it, but she rather enjoyed the way Fitz’s cheeks got pink whenever she caught him staring at her chest.

It was even more exciting to know he wanted to see her again after the mission was over, even if it was ostensibly for work. She had no clue how long it would take to straighten out the paperwork for another collaboration, but it would likely be a couple of months at the very least. It was a terrifyingly long time to not see him at all. Jemma clutched the mascara wand tightly in her hand and drank him in, trying to savor every moment they had left.

“Fitz,” she said again, capping the mascara and straightening up. She caught his eye in the mirror and smiled. “Ready?”

He nodded and climbed to his feet. There wasn’t a hint of island about his outfit tonight, other than the white button down he had on contrasting nicely with the bit of color he’d gotten from the sun, making her want to lick the exposed hollow of his throat.

“Daisy texted to say her section is in the back, near the main doors, so we should sit there,” Jemma said, grabbing her bag as Fitz opened the door of their room and checked the hall before reaching for her. She slipped her hand into his unhesitatingly and they headed for the elevator. “Do you think they’ll show?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“I don’t know,” Fitz said, matching her volume. “Seems unlikely they’d risk taking the device in front of all those witnesses. Plus, the others are on their way to intercept the submarine, so they probably won’t even get the chance to try.”

Jemma’s handbag was uncharacteristically heavy, her handgun taking up most of the room in it. It was a constant reminder that her and Fitz’s roles had drastically changed. She’d watched him check his ankle holster a half dozen times before they left the room, and it had both thrilled and terrified her. It’d been so easy to lose herself in the illusion that they really were here on vacation together, and the jarring realization that this was a dangerous mission had irrevocably shattered that fantasy.

Still, his hand was warm and strong in hers and if she had to choose anyone to be at her side for this, it was him.

Fitz squeezed her hand and she looked over at him “Ready?” he asked. Jemma nodded and he leaned in, giving her a long, lingering kiss just before the elevator doors opened on the lobby.

They made their way to the conference room, following the rest of the crowd, and Jemma couldn’t stop herself from turning around every few seconds, watching for the Russians. Fitz pulled her into a hug as they reached the bottleneck at the doors, sliding his arm around her waist and positioning them so she was nestled against his shoulder with a view of everything behind them. “Better?” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. She nodded, shuffling backwards at his direction while a few of the other guests shot them amused glances. 

She caught sight of George and Brad and they started to wave before quickly lowering their hands and having a whispered, frantic conversation that made Jemma smile despite herself. She lifted a hand off Fitz’s shoulder and waved at them both, giving them an encouraging smile. They both visibly relaxed and Jemma rubbed Fitz’s arm to get his attention. “George and Brad are here.”

“Good, I’m glad they’re okay,” he said quietly.

“Me too.”

They passed through the doorway and Jemma reluctantly pulled away from him, heading for an empty table at the back of the room while the rest of the conference-goers headed eagerly toward the front. Even if Stark himself wasn’t going to be here, his new device was bound to be revolutionary. As long as they could keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Daisy was standing against the far wall and she made eye contact with Jemma, her expression unchanging, before picking up a tray of champagne glasses.

“Here?” Fitz asked, stopping beside a table halfway between the two exits. He absently grabbed the back of a chair, pulling it out slightly and directing Jemma into it before sitting beside her. She set her handbag on her lap and reached out to put a hand on Fitz’s thigh as his leg began to jiggle nervously.

This was going to be a very long two hours.

***

Somewhere around dessert, Fitz finally began to relax. He’d seen Bobbi wandering through the crowd, talking with a few people close to the front who were no doubt part of her team, and Daisy was starting to look bored, circulating among the nearby tables with trays full of empty dishes. Their phones had been quiet.

His arm was slung across the back of Jemma’s chair so he could occasionally run his fingers through her hair and, though she’d barely touched her meal, she’d let down her guard enough to lean her head against his shoulder. No one else had joined their table, choosing to crowd up toward the front where the excitement would be.

The catering staff was offering drinks again as the lights dimmed and an anticipatory hum of conversation filled the room. The fanfare was decidedly subdued for a Stark Industries announcement, but maybe Bobbi had convinced them to tone it down so there were fewer distractions for the Russians to take advantage of.

Jemma leaned forward as the presenters took the stage: a man in an expensive suit and three people in lab coats standing beside a surprisingly small table. Fitz wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, but he supposed if the implants were small enough.

The lights dimmed further and Fitz sat up in his chair, checking the exits and noting that Daisy was near one set of doors, while Bobbi was still up front. That left the other exit for he and Jemma to cover. He nudged her knee with his own and trailed his fingers down her left arm, receiving a nod of understanding. Her handbag was open in her lap.

Fitz returned his attention back to the front of the room just in time to watch everything go to hell.

There was a sound Fitz couldn’t identify, buried deep beneath the booming voice of the man in the suit as he spoke into the microphone, that he later realized was initial crack of the explosive before the wall next to the presenters disintegrated in a flash of light.

Dust and smoke began to rise, followed swiftly by screams as people scrambled for the exits. Fitz realized he was standing, and Jemma was tugging on his arm, saying something, but his ears were ringing and the room was filled with a hazy cloud that made it difficult to see. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands in a silent question and she shook her head, smoothing a hand down his chest.

Reassured that she wasn’t hurt, Fitz grabbed her hand and they stumbled for the door they’d taken charge of as the lights came up, allowing him to see the hole in the side of the building. It wasn’t as big as he feared, and Bobbi’s bright head of hair was visible as she directed people away from it. Thank god, Hunter would have had a fit if she’d been hurt again. He saw her grab the arm of one of the people wearing a lab coat, dragging them away from the damaged wall. The scientist was carrying a sleek briefcase that must contain the device.

Several firefighters were pushing their way past the panicked crowd, entering the room instead of leaving it. Fitz was relieved to see them. Bobbi must have asked the local authorities to standby ahead of time .

He and Jemma reached their door, huddling against the wall nearby and squinting into the dusty air as people rushed past.

Bobbi was behind the scientist with the device, heading in their direction, and then, suddenly, she wasn’t.

Fitz tensed, then let out a breath a moment later when he spotted her again, apparently arguing with a firefighter. It was her leg, he realized. She was limping, probably bleeding, and they were trying to help her. That wasn’t going to end well.

“Fitz,” Jemma said, laying a hand on his arm. “What…” She gasped, pointing to another firefighter who had just shoved the scientist carrying the device into a table, knocking him to the ground before snatching the briefcase and heading towards the exit on the other side of the room. 

Fitz dropped down to one knee, going for his gun as Jemma pulled out her own. “Where’s Daisy?” he yelled over the din, people were still pushing towards the exits, overturning chairs and smashing the occasional glass.

“Maybe she’s just outside,” Jemma called back. “I don’t see her!”

“Bobbi!” Fitz shouted, keeping his eyes trained on the firefighter with the briefcase. Whoever it was, they were almost to the doors. He and Jemma weren’t going to make it in time. People automatically parted to make room for the firefighters in bright yellow gear, and they were swallowed up in the crowd beyond the doors before Fitz and Jemma were even halfway across the room.

“Where?” Bobbi yelled, shoving aside a person who’d been trying to help her and heading in their direction.

More screaming started just then, outside the conference room: the high-pitched, keening wail of someone in terrible pain. It made the hair on the back of Fitz’s neck stand up. He and Jemma got to the doors at the same time as Bobbi, pushing past the other guests before stopping dead in their tracks.

There was no sign of the firefighter, just a crowd of people around a screaming woman writhing on the ground, her body bowing up as though she couldn’t bear to lie still.

Fitz reached out in time to steady Jemma as she staggered.

“Daisy,” she gasped. “Oh god, what did they do?”


	19. Ka Moku

Fitz couldn’t make sense out of what was going on. Everything was loud, bright, and he had no idea how to help Jemma’s friend and coworker as Daisy writhed on the floor inside a knot of onlookers.

He just stood dumbly as Jemma ran to Daisy and dropped to the floor beside her, her hand going to Daisy’s throat to check her pulse.

George and Brad followed, kneeling beside Daisy as well.

“She’s breathing, and I have a rapid but strong pulse,” Jemma reported to George. Both Jemma and George looked serious but calm, professional medical masks in place.

At least Brad appeared as freaked out as Fitz felt.

Daisy let out a strangled cry, her hand making an abortive motion towards her lower back.

“Did anyone see what happened?” George asked as Jemma continued to monitor Daisy’s pulse.

“Well,” a woman in a black dress said, wringing her hands. “There were these firefighters, and she tried to get in their way. I thought she was going to stop them, or at least take away the briefcase one was carrying, but then she screamed and fell to the floor.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said. Her eyes were examining Daisy. “I don’t see any blood or wounds.”

“No obvious trauma,” George agreed.

Brad frowned. “Wait, look.” He tugged Daisy’s shirt up. On her back was a small black box, about the size of a pack of playing cards.

“The Stark Industries device,” Fitz said, catching sight of the logo embossed on the plastic. His mind went kicked into gear again. Electronic devices were something he knew. He dropped down beside Daisy and squinted at the box. “I need to get the cover off. Does anyone have a screwdriver?”

Brad fished a multitool out from his pocket. Fitz stared at the gun he was still gripping hand. He’d almost forgot it was there. He hesitated because he knew better than to hand a civilian a loaded firearm in a tense situation, but Daisy made a choked scream and Fitz nearly threw the pistol at Brad as he grabbed the multitool. Brad made a face like Fitz had handed him a dead fish and held the pistol awkwardly away from him.

Fitz studied the multitool. He selected the smallest screwdriver, flipped it open, and bent down to start removing the front panel of the device.

“She one of yours?” George asked Jemma as they tried to hold Daisy still.

“Yes,” Jemma said. “And she’s my friend.” Her voice broke slightly on the last word.

Fitz continued to concentrate on what he was doing. Wielding the screwdriver wasn’t easy with Daisy’s jerking, but Fitz got all four screws out and opened the top.

“I don’t think it’s the same as defusing a bomb,” Jemma said, studying the mass of wires inside the device. “It’s hooked to nerves, and much like what we’ve discussed with the cybernetic eye, things could be quite entangled.”

He nodded. “Any suggestions?”

Jemma frowned.

“There’s a port, mini-USB,” Brad said, pointing to the devices’ tangle of wires. 

Fitz carefully used the screwdriver to fish the wire ending in the connection out. “I could hook my phone up if I had a cable.”

Brad snorted and produced one from his other pocket.

Jemma looked impressed, and Brad shrugged as Fitz hooked up his phone to the device.

There were a few seconds, and then a program popped up and started feeding out data. A lot of it medical.

“Jemma,” Fitz hissed, and she looked over his shoulder.

“Let me,” she said.

Fitz passed her the phone and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on Daisy’s shoulder. She was sweaty, and her breathing was loud. Her mouth quirked up into a grimace.

“Jemma’s working on it,” he said. “Sorry it’s taking a moment, but you know she’s a genius. She’ll patch you right up.”

Daisy’s eyes fixed on his.

Fitz kept talking to her in a low murmur, hoping he was helping. “Jemma’s the most amazing person I ever met. Can’t imagine not having done so. She told me I have you to thank for dragging her out of the lab. I hate to think I might have gone my entire life and never had met her. So thank you. And I know she’ll fix this. Jemma can make anything better.”

He glanced up at Jemma, who was focused entirely on his phone. Fitz pressed his lips into a thin line as Daisy whimpered softly.

The phone beeped.

“I think I got it,” Jemma said in a hushed tone.

The few blinking lights in the device went from red to green, and the device fell off Daisy’s back into Fitz’s hand.

He stared at it. How could something so small cause so much pain?

Daisy collapsed, and George quickly checked her vitals.

“She’s okay,” George said. “She’ll be okay.”

Fitz felt like he could breathe again.

****

Jemma brushed Daisy’s hair behind her ear as Daisy groaned. She cracked an eye open.

“Thanks,” Daisy said weakly. “That sucked. Remind me to send Mr. Stark a congratulations letter on how much this device freaking sucks.”

She sagged back against the floor, her head on George’s knee. He checked her pulse.

“She’s fine,” George said. “We’ll get her to a hospital.” Brad picked up one of her limp hands and squeezed. Fitz was still sitting on the floor, frowning as he inspected the insides of the device.

Jemma shakily got to her feet and looked around the lobby. It was a mess, frightened people clustered together in clumps, muttering in hushed voices. Outside the front doors, the sound of sirens was getting closer. She didn’t know what to do next. Logically, she understood it’d only taken them a few minutes to free Daisy, but it felt like they’d been in the lobby for years.

She closed her eyes and pressed the heel of her palm to her jaw, trying to reason out the next step. When a hand closed around her other wrist, she yelped as she yanked herself out of the grip and spun around, only to find Coulson standing there wearing a grim expression. May and Mack were standing behind him, and Mack had the EMP loaded drone in his hands, along with a tablet.

“Fitz, Simmons, you’re with us,” Coulson said. “May managed to get the correct coordinates out of our reluctant sometimes-janitor. He fills in as a waiter as well during big events. Neither of which pays well. I’m surprised the entire hotel staff hasn’t been bought by these goons.”

May shrugged a shoulder.

Fitz stood and handed the Stark Industries device to Brad. “Keep track of that,” Fitz said before Mack pushed the drone and tablet into his hands.

“You’re piloting,” Coulson said to Fitz. He turned to Jemma. “And you’re going to cover him.” May picked up Jemma’s handbag from the floor next to Daisy and pulled out the gun from inside it. She dropped the bag and handed the Glock to Jemma with a nod.

Jemma’s hand shook as she double-checked there was a round in the chamber. She wasn’t good with guns. She’d been trained, of course, but that didn’t mean she was any good, certainly not enough to be responsible for Fitz’s life. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

The others were already walking towards the doors leading from the lobby towards the beach. Flashing lights flooded the lobby, and Jemma shared a worried glance with Fitz before they hastened to catch up.

Outside, they found Coulson talking to Hunter, who was sitting at a patio table with the injured Bobbi.

“Go!” Bobbi said, pushing at Hunter. “I’m fine, but I’m going to get pissed if you keep arguing with me.”

Hunter made a face. “Guess I’m going with?” he said, turning to Coulson.

Coulson held a hand up. “Not so fast. I need you here. Keep tabs on the first responders and make sure they’re the real deal this time. And keep track of Bobbi and Daisy. I don’t need things here getting FUBAR while I’m out trying to stop a submarine.”

Hunter nodded, and Bobbi took his hand. Their serious faces made Jemma’s stomach drop. Whatever was happening next, it wasn’t going to be easy.

Jemma had to nearly jog to keep up as Coulson, Mack, and May headed for the marina.  A frightened looking employee, who was sporting a fresh black eye, stood up from behind a crate as the team hastened down the boardwalk.

“Did you see anything?” Mack asked the guy, who was shaking like a leaf. His name tag read ‘Gary’.

“Three guys, one carrying a briefcase, two of them dressed like firefighters,” Gary said, wiping his palms on his trousers. “They got in a Bowrider 180, which I’m pretty sure didn’t belong to them. I tried to stop them but—” He gestured at his face.

Jemma was glad that was all that had happened to him.

“I can guarantee you the Zodiac is ours, the giant SHIELD symbol on the side being a giveaway,” Coulson said.

Gary tried to smile, but it faltered as he held a hand out for them to continue.

The Zodiac was one of the big pro models. Jemma hunkered down with Fitz on the bench in front of the helm, which Mack took, while May claimed a spot on the bow and Coulson sat in the stern. Gary undid the mooring ropes and tossed them to May and Coulson. He waved as Mack gunned the engine and they roared out towards to open ocean.

The night was beautiful, the moon hung heavy overhead, and the breeze carried the clean scent and spray of the ocean. It was also far too cold for what Jemma was wearing. She leaned against Fitz, attempting to get out of the wind. She was getting soaked from the water blowing in over the bow, which didn’t seem to be bothering May at all. Fitz was hunched over trying to protect the drone and tablet.

“There’s a storage space beneath you,” Mack said.

Fitz stood, and Jemma managed to slide off the bench and flip it open. There were several watertight storage compartments underneath. Fitz carefully set the drone and tablet in one. They closed the top of the bench and sat back down on it.

Jemma tucked her pistol under her thigh to try and keep it away from the water, but still close by.

“Big wave,” Mack said. The Zodiac pitched crazily up for a moment, then crashed back down. Water from the splash soaked everyone on board.

Jemma wiped her face as Fitz sputtered. His shirt was plastered to his skin and drops of water were sliding down his throat.

“Bit of adventure,” she said, attempting a smile.

Fitz blearily stared at her.

“Maybe too much of one.” She bowed her head and wrung her hands in her lap. The Zodiac bobbed as it flew over the surf.

Fitz put a hand over hers, and his other one cupped her face.

“Jemma,” he said, voice hoarse. “I don’t know…anything could happen when we reach the coordinates. And I need you to know…this mission was just supposed to be a stepping stone, a way for me to get out of the lab for once and see the world a little. I didn’t know it’d be the most important decision I ever made.”

She met his eyes, which were hard to read in only the dim light of the moon.

“I feel the same way,” she said, hardly daring to breathe. Daisy had convinced Jemma it’d be a blast to be in the field and undercover. Jemma had thought it’d look good on her resume. She hadn’t for a second thought her entire life would be upended. That she’d meet the one person in the universe that fit her in every way. That she’d fall in love.

Fitz’s thumb ran over her cheek. “You’re everything,” he whispered before bowing his head and pressing his lips to hers. Jemma caught sight of May smiling slightly at them from her place in the bow, but then Jemma’s eyes slid closed as Fitz deepened the kiss. Her hands went to his chest, and she pressed her palms against the soaked material of his shirt.

He was warm and solid under her fingers, and his lips and tongue tasted of the ocean. This kiss was different. It wasn’t pretend, or just for them. It was desperate, and loving, and in front of their friends and colleagues. It declared they were together.

As her tongue swirled with his, Jemma knew that she’d fight for him. Both literally, as they faced the Russians, and through the red tape of SHIELD and MI6. She’d find a way for them to work side-by-side. And then she’d never let him go.

Fitz’s hands dropped from her face to her sides, caressing her through her soaked blouse. He whimpered slightly and nipped at her lip, making her moan.

“Hey, guys,” Mack said. “We’re here.” The engine cut out and the only sound was the lapping of the water against the sides of the boat.

****

Fitz reluctantly broke the kiss with Jemma. He put his hands on either side of her head, his fingers in her hair, and pressed his forehead to hers as they caught their breath.

He was terrified of the mission ending. Of being forced to separate from Jemma. If they survived that long.

Fear twisted icy fingers around him.

“Jemma,” he whispered. She understood she was his heart, didn’t she? His whole world. He moved to capture her lips again as a series of loud pops sounded to one side. They turned their heads towards the noise.

“Get down!” Mack shouted as he dropped to his knees.

There was another series of pops.

Gunshots.

Those were gunshots. Fitz slid off the bench and ended up curled on the deck, Jemma beside him. She had her gun clutched in her hand.

“The other boat,” she whispered, but then frowned. “It’s not like they can hear me,” she said in a normal voice. “They’re too far away, but it does confirm we’re in the right location. It’s unlikely they can hit us unless they get closer, but still, better safe than sorry.”

“Right. Good.” His brows drew together. “I’m getting tired of being shot at.”

Jemma’s smile slipped, and he wished he hadn’t said that. There wasn’t even a way to make up for reminding her of their close calls. Not now, when the mission was the top priority.  

“I need to get the drone.” Fitz tapped against the bench. Jemma nodded.

“Okay, I’ll lift the seat, reach in there and try to grab it.”

“I’ll cover you,” May said from the bow.

“Got it.”

Jemma undid the latch and pushed the seat of the bench up. Fitz waited a beat, but there were no new shots. He stretched and patted around inside the space but couldn’t reach far enough down to grab anything. His eyes met May’s, and she nodded.

“One,” May said. Fitz tensed. “Two…three.” He went to his knees and plucked the drone and tablet out of the bench as May righted herself and shot a volley at the other boat. Which was now much closer to them. He dropped back down at the same time as May.

Wood splintered as a bullet slammed into helm station over their heads.

Jemma whimpered.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m okay.”

The boat rocked, then shifted abruptly sideways.

“Submarine’s surfacing,” Coulson called. “Fitz, get that drone active.”

Crap. He handed the drone to Jemma, who cradled it in her palm, her gun still in her other hand. 

“You’ll do a good job, won’t you?” she murmured to it, and Fitz very badly wanted to kiss her again, but there wasn’t time. Or room. He wiggled onto his side and opened the tablet, powering it on. The battery was thankfully nearly full. He ran through the self-tests and initiated the link to the drone.

The boat rocked again, this time more violently.

“Conning tower’s breaking the surface,” May said. “I think we’re in the wrong spot.”

“It’s not wrong,” Coulson said. “If the submarine’s here…what do you mean wrong?”

Mack rose on his knees before hastily dropped again. “She means we’re right on top of the damn thing.”

“That’s interesting.” Coulson frowned.

Fitz shared a panicked glance with Jemma. They both screamed as the Zodiac abruptly shot upward.

The trip only lasted a few moments. The Zodiac stilled, and everyone let out a sigh of relief.

Fitz tilted his head back, able to see the conning tower himself now. Not as big as he’d been expecting. And also where he needed to get the drone to. If a hatch was going to open, it’d be there.

“Everyone out the far side of the boat,” Coulson said. “Before someone starts shooting from that tower.”

Luckily, it wasn’t a far drop from the side of the boat to the metal deck of the submarine, but Jemma, gun in one hand and drone in the other, grimaced as she looked over the side. The sub wasn’t huge, but it was big enough. They were maybe fifteen feet above the water, the Zodiac resting completely on the spine of the submarine.

“Hang on,” Fitz said. Both of Jemma’s hands were full, making it impossible for her to go over the side of the Zodiac. He typed in a few commands, and the drone lifted from her palm. He sent it to hover against the side of the helm station as Jemma jumped over the side of the Zodiac and crouched down. He followed her. The deck clanged under his feet as he landed. He stayed crouched, his shoulder against the side of the Zodiac as he concentrated on the display and readouts from the drone.

There was the rumble of a motor from one side of the submarine.

“Other boat,” Coulson said. “Three people.” There was the noise of gunshots from the direction of the conning tower.

May squinted, assessing the situation. “I’m seeing two people at the top of the tower. One of them is Ivanov.”

Jemma checked her pistol again and her jaw clenched. Fitz wished he could hug her.

The Bowrider’s engine revved close by, towards the stern of the sub. Terrific, they were sandwiched between the men in the Bowrider and the sub’s conning tower. And he couldn’t worry about any of it. He had to get the drone into the sub’s interior safely and set off the EMP.

“What do we do?” Jemma asked.

“You stay with Fitz,” Coulson said. “Fitz, get that drone to the hatch. Right to the control room, if possible. Mack and I will try to pin down the men on the tower, May, you get the ones coming up from the boat.”

Fitz glanced up. A smile was curving May’s mouth upwards.

Mack and Coulson straightened up and fired at the tower at the same time. May hastened towards the stern. Fitz didn’t see a gun in her hand, but he didn’t want to ask. Maybe she didn’t think one was necessary.

Fitz returned his attention to the screen and directed the drone fly low over the side of the Zodiac and zip along the top of the deck towards the tower.

Mack and Coulson squeezed off two more staggered shots, hopefully occupying the attention of anyone who could potentially see the drone. Fitz directed it around the far side of the tower and started to slowly raise it up the side, only to stop when Jemma let out a high-pitched squeak.

He looked up in time to see someone from the boat, still dressed in firefighter’s gear, launch themselves onto the submarine’s deck. He was armed, but May quickly remedied that. The gun landed with a splash in the ocean. It was only a few seconds before May sent the man who’d been wielding it in the same direction. He didn’t resurface.

The other man in firefighter gear had appeared, but Fitz didn’t have time to worry about him. He’d have to trust that May could take him out as well. Jemma squeezed his arm, and he glanced at her, wincing as more bullets smacked into the Zodiac from the tower. Coulson and Mack didn’t return fire, which made Fitz wonder about just how much ammunition they actually had.

He continued the drone’s ascent, scooting it just above the top of the tower to make sure no one was looking at it. Ivanov and another man were thankfully turned away, but then Ivanov looked into the hatch and shouted something. Fitz had to drop the drone back down as several other men, grim-faced and dressed in black, climbed out of the hatch.

Bloody hell.

“More of them coming,” he yelled.

May, now holding the second fake-firefighter's pistol, nodded. The man she’d taken it from was lying unmoving at her feet. There were several shots from the direction of the tower, then the men there hastening down the ladder, except for Ivanov, who had his eyes trained on what was happening.

Perfect.

Fitz slid a leg out and bumped his shin against Jemma’s leg, needing the moral support. He sent the drone back up and over the railing of the tower, heading for the hatch.

There was a clatter as May ran and launched herself over the Zodiac, heading for the men advancing from the conning tower. Coulson stood as she did and quickly fired three shots, though Fitz didn’t know if he hit anything.

On the drone’s video feed, it appeared no one was watching the hatch, and Fitz zipped the drone down inside it, hardly daring to breathe as he directed it to the first hallway. He could blow the EMP immediately but risked it not taking out enough of the ship. He needed to find the control room. Slowly he edged the drone along, looking for directional signs in the hallway.

“Oh,” Jemma gasped.

Fitz looked up. Popov had appeared on the deck, the suitcase with the Stark Device in one hand and a gun in the other. Fitz couldn’t do anything as he piloted the drone, sending it to hover between two pipes as several on the sub’s crew dashed along the hallway. Fitz hoped the sub’s interior was noisy enough the whir of the drone’s engine wouldn’t be noticeable.

Jemma shifted, and he lost contact with her leg, but he couldn’t look up. Mack and Coulson were yelling, and occasionally their guns barked.

Fitz flew the drone along, dropped down another ladder, and hoped he was heading in the right direction.

“Stop,” Jemma snapped.

“You’re shaking,” Popov said, voice cold and far too close. “I think I’ll kill your boyfriend first.”

“Jemma!” Mack said, but it sounded like he was too far towards the Zodiac’s bow to help.

She didn’t say anything, but her gun boomed. Fitz yelped and looked up. Popov fall to the deck, his pistol skittering away from him and the suitcase landing with a clang as he grabbed his leg. “You shot me, you bitch,” he snarled.

Jemma dashed forward, grabbed the briefcase, and retreated. “Sorry! I’m sorry. You’re going to want to hold pressure on it.”

Fitz was stunned. “You shot him!” he said to Jemma.

“He was pointing a gun at you.”

Oh.

“Thank you.” He’d have to process this later when he wasn’t directing a drone through a terrorist submarine. Jemma’s lips brushed his temple.

“Retreat,” Ivanov’s voice boomed out. There was a scramble on the deck as his men headed for the tower. “Dive, dive, dive!”

Crap. Crap. Crap.

May, Coulson, and Mack returned to crouch beside him and Jemma.

They were whispering to each other, but he couldn’t catch any of it.  Beneath him, the sub’s deck trembled.

Fitz gave up on stealth and pushed the drone to fly as fast as possible, buzzing through corridors and past a startled sailor’s head.

The water around the sub started to make noise and Fitz could feel the deck sinking.

“Fitz!” Jemma cried, grabbing for his arm.

“Hold on—” The drone shot into the middle of the control room, sailors looking up from their stations. Fitz jammed his finger against the tablet, triggering the EMP.

The sub shuddered but stopped descending. The lights on the conning tower blinked out.

The night became eerily quiet.

It was broken a moment later by a steady thump that quickly became another heartbeat in his chest. Two Blackhawk helicopters appeared from the sky and settled over the sub.  It wasn’t until they were close enough for the SHIELD emblems on the side to become visible that Fitz relaxed.

Jemma stood and helped him to his feet.

“Good work,” Coulson said, patting Fitz’s shoulder.

Fitz looked down. “I didn’t do much. Jemma was the one who—”

“Turbo,” Mack broke in. “You did a lot. The device didn’t end up in the wrong hands because of a drone you designed. Take the credit.”

Fitz dismissively waved a hand, uncomfortable with the praise. He slid an arm around her waist.

She was smiling at him, though she radiated exhaustion. He felt like he could sleep for a week.

Had they really stopped a rogue submarine?

SHIELD agents were descending from the helicopters and swarming the tower, but he couldn’t bother to spare the scene more than a single glance. Not with Jemma pressed against him.

Fitz smiled back at her before ducking his head and kissing her lips. If there was a reward for a mission well done, then this is what he wanted.

Jemma’s arms went around him, and she kissed him back. Fitz’s heart soared.

 


	20. Holo Ana

They’d had to ride back to the hotel in one of the helicopters, which wasn’t an experience Jemma wanted to repeat again anytime soon. She knew, logically, that she spent plenty of time in the air, but the Bus was different, and knowing May was piloting it made feel much safer. And at no time was it quite this loud.

Jemma clutched Fitz’s hand, her feelings for him all jumbled in a knot of relief and elation and exhaustion and a bit of belated terror. She didn’t know what she would have done if something had happened to him, and she refused to think about it, concentrating on the fact that he was still beside her. She’d never shot someone before and, quite frankly, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to again, but she’d done what she’d had to, and she’d kept Fitz safe. That was the important part.

What he’d said earlier, on the boat, was probably the most romantic thing that’d ever happened to her—if she ignored all the scheming Russians and the gunfight that occurred directly afterwards. And it hadn’t been in any way related to their cover. It’d just been him, kissing her like it was the last memory he wanted to make. She wanted to make so many more together.

Jemma looked over as they landed on the far side of the hotel parking lot to find Fitz leaning back against the seat with his eyes closed. He must be as exhausted as she was. He cracked his eyes open as they thumped back to earth, immediately seeking her out and giving her a small smile before they were ushered out so the helicopter crew could get back to the submarine. The noise of the blades faded into the distance, and Jemma relaxed at last, leaning her head against Fit’s shoulder as they walked towards the bright lights of the hotel. She shivered, her wet clothes clinging to her.

“I’ve never wanted a hot shower so badly,” she sighed.

“I feel like I could sleep for days,” he yawned, pulling open the hotel doors. Jemma ignored the strange looks from the front desk clerk as they headed across the lobby

“I don’t think we’ve got the room for quite that long,” Jemma said, her heart sinking as her brain caught up with her words. There was a long silence as she leaned against him and they waited for the elevator to take them up to their floor. His hand swept lazily up and down her back.

“When are you leaving?” Fitz finally asked.

Jemma swallowed around the lump in her throat. “May said we’re meeting at the Bus by noon tomorrow. When are…are you..” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence.

“Mack’s checking in with the boss tomorrow to see what the plan is,” Fitz said quietly. “I told him I’d come by after you…when you go.”

They walked down the hall in silence, Fitz opening their hotel room door and ushering her inside. Goosebumps erupted on her exposed flesh immediately, the air was so cold. The AC was humming away happily under the window. Jemma shivered and let out a rueful laugh. “This is going to be the most-requested room in the hotel.”

Fitz rubbed his hands up and down her arms, then leaned in and kissed her softly. Jemma melted against him as he deepened the kiss. “Shower?” she murmured against his mouth. He nodded, and they stumbled in the direction of the bathroom.

This time, unlike the last, there was no timetable they had to keep to, so they were able to share slow, lingering kisses as they helped each other out of their wet clothes and stepped under the warm water, holding each other close. The water sluiced over Jemma as she tipped her head back to rinse her hair, her arms looped around Fitz’s neck. His hands slid down to her bum and up again, slowly tracing the line of her spine like he was measuring the distance between each vertebra. He tucked his head against the crook of her neck and they stood under the water wrapped up together for who knew how long, just being.

Jemma finally had to nudge Fitz, feeling like she was falling asleep on her feet, and from the bleary-eyed expression on his face, he wasn’t far from that himself. “Bed, I think,” she whispered, shutting off the water. Fitz yawned and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her before taking a second for himself. Jemma smiled as he scrubbed at his wet hair, and he stopped for a moment, watching her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She lifted up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his nose. “I’m just happy.”

He looked pleased, dropping his towel onto the floor and then frowning down at it, glancing her direction, and picking it up again. He hung it haphazardly over one end of the towel rack and Jemma resisted straightening it out. This was their last night in this room, after all. Shaking that thought from her mind, she hung up her own towel as Fitz wrapped himself around her again and they stumbled toward the bedroom.

Jemma had very grand plans for their final night together, she was sure of it, but the second they managed to get to the mattress, she was already drifting off. Fitz curled up against her back, his body warm, and looped an arm around her waist. The last thing she remembered before sleep overtook her was him pressing a kiss against her shoulder and the sound of her name on his lips.

***

Fitz wasn’t sure what woke him, but he really wasn’t ready to be awake just yet. He scooted over, searching for Jemma, and his eyes popped open when he found nothing but empty mattress. He was alone. He sat straight up, his heart pounding, and blinked the sleep from his eyes. She wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye, would she? “Jemma?”

The bathroom door opened, and she shuffled out, yawning. The sunlight filtering in around the curtains lit her curves, and her hair was messier than usual. She was absolutely the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. He was going to be a disaster when he got back home and had to wake up alone every morning. He could barely remember how he’d managed it before he’d met Jemma. She crawled back into bed, and he was distracted for a moment by her swaying breasts before she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early.” She smelled like mint and soap.

He relaxed back against the pillows, pulling her down with him, and wrapped his arms tightly about her. “Did you brush your teeth?” he asked in amusement.

Jemma lifted her head from where it was resting against his chest, her expression sheepish. “Maybe?”

Fitz rolled them over, pinning her to the bed underneath him. There was no way he was going back to sleep now, not when he had a gorgeous, naked Jemma in his bed who worried over trivial things like her morning breath. As if that would put him off. “Can’t let that go to waste, can we?” 

Jemma let out a breathless laugh that shook her whole body, and he took a moment to drink her in, reveling in the fact that he’d basically announced to her and anyone within earshot the night before that he was completely in love with her and she’d not only said she felt the same, she’d actually shot someone to keep him safe. He knew without a doubt he’d have done the same for her, and the realization both startled him and cemented what he already knew, that Jemma Simmons, in the space of barely two weeks, had become one of the most important people in his life. And he would do whatever it took to keep her in it.

She gazed up at him, her thumb sweeping across his cheek and her face flushed, and Fitz finally lowered his head, gently pressing their mouths together. Jemma wiggled eagerly underneath him as his cock began to wake up, too. Her tongue swept through his mouth and he groaned, rolling them again so she was the one on top. Jemma broke the kiss, sitting up and straddling his hips. She rested her hands on his chest and he caught the teasing glint in her eye. “Shall we go down to breakfast?”

Fitz clutched her hips and bucked up, pressing his erection against her and smirking as she let out a gratifying gasp. “Sod breakfast.”

Jemma threw back her head and laughed and he took advantage of her distraction, propping himself up on an elbow to capture one of her nipples between his lips. “Fitz,” she said, curling a hand into his hair and arching back as he drew another moan from her. Her hips were circling, grinding down against his cock, and she said his name again, breathier this time. He loved the way it came out of her mouth like she’d been savoring it.

He loved everything about her.

He switched his attentions to her other breast and slid his fingers down between her legs, listening to the way her breath hitched when he hit just the right spot with the right amount of pressure. Rather like listening to a finicky engine, when it came down to it, except a thousand times more beautiful.

He fell back against the pillows, and watched, fascinated, as she rode his hand with her eyes closed. The sunlight leaking into the room was caught in the halo of her messy hair while her breasts moved in time with her hips. She lifted up just enough for him to slide a finger inside of her, reveling in the feel of how wet she was, and her mouth fell open as her whole body shuddered through an orgasm.

Christ, he was already halfway to popping off and he wasn’t even inside her yet.

“Fitz.” Jemma practically collapsed on top of him, kissing his face without seeming to care where her lips landed and making him grin. He wiggled his arm out from between them and reached for the nightstand drawer, not wanting to let her go but unable to quite make the stretch. He shifted slightly, pulling her along with him. She let out a contented sigh and kissed the side of his nose before opening her eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Condom.”

Jemma’s smile was wide and bright and beautiful as she braced herself against his chest and slid back just far enough to make contact with his aching prick. “Yes, please.”

Fitz’s fingers finally found the drawer pull and he yanked it open, digging out a condom and fumbling the small packet as he tried to get it open. Jemma took it from him, sliding down until she was perched on his thighs and seemingly contemplating his cock. Fitz propped himself on his elbows and resisted covering himself as she studied it, her head tilted to one side while her free hand traced patterns on his hip. It apparently met with her approval, because she grasped it, swiping her thumb over the top and making his hips buck before rolling the condom down over it and crawling up over him again.

He reached down to position himself as she bit her lip and rocked her hips, finding just the right angle. They both groaned as she sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch inside her. The feel of her surrounding him was warm and snug and perfect, like they’d been made to fit together. His hands tightened on her hips, preparing to lift her up again, when she surprised him by stretching out across his chest and softly kissing him. “Morning,” she said, her voice quiet and much shyer than he’d expect, considering their position.

He reached up to brush her hair back out of her face, his breath catching in his throat at the tenderness in her eyes, hardly believing that could be directed at him. “Morning,” he replied, his voice hoarse.

“Can it be morning forever?” she whispered.

“Absolutely,” he managed, tugging her close for another kiss. He refused to look at the clock, not wanting to know how little time they had left. “For as long as you want.”

***

“Right, now this one,” Fitz held up something to her lips that made Jemma wrinkle her nose as she tried not to laugh. She leaned away from his fork, though she couldn’t get very far, since they were sharing a chair. The café patio behind the hotel wasn’t very crowded, but the lunch crowd would likely be showing up soon.

“Fitz, I told you, I’m not eating fish for breakfast! Or anything with Spam in it.” 

He redirected the fork to his own mouth with a sigh before making happy noises as he chewed. Jemma settled back against him, watching in amusement. “You are seriously missing out,” he informed her.

“I am absolutely stuffed. How could you possibly have room for all this food?”

A smirk appeared on his face that immediately made her cheeks heat up before he leaned in and stole a kiss. “A beautiful woman told me I’ve been burning quite a lot of calories.”

Jemma made a face. “Ugh, that was Spam, wasn’t it?”

Fitz laughed, and she held her breath, trying to memorize the sound, and the way it involved his whole face. She knew they could talk anytime between now and when they next saw each other, but it wasn’t going to be the same as actually being with him, not in the slightest. He must have caught the direction her thoughts were straying, because he sobered quickly and picked up her hand, linking their fingers together. “It won’t be for long, I don’t think,” he said. “Your boss sounded interested in the night-night gun at least, and mine likely will be, too.”

Jemma tried to smile. “I know, I just…I hate it. I’ve only just found you, and I don’t…it’s not fair.” He pulled her into an embrace, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, breathing him in one last time. She was already pushing it, she knew. It was nearly noon and she hadn’t even left the hotel. “I want more time.”

Fitz stroked a hand through her hair. “Me too, Jemma.” She tipped her head back and he kissed her again, slow and deep, his tongue slipping into her mouth and curling around hers while she fisted a hand into the fabric of his shirt and tried to forget everything but him, just for a moment. When he pulled back, she could see the same regret she felt shining in his eyes. “It’s almost noon,” he said.

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the surf crash behind them, Fitz leisurely stroking her arm with Jemma nestled against him. Finally, unable to put it off any longer, she pushed herself upright and got to her feet. Fitz stood up with her, holding onto to one of her hands.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said firmly, hoping the more convincing she sounded, the truer it would be.

“As soon as we can,” he promised, lifting a hand and swiping his thumb across her cheek. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. Jemma nodded and turned, reaching for her suitcase. Fitz put his hand over hers. “Let me-”

Shaking her head, Jemma grasped the handle firmly. “No, just…I’ll never go if I can still see you.” She laughed, feeling foolish. “Stay, finish your awful breakfast, and tell everyone I said goodbye?”

“I will.”

Jemma nodded again and cupped his cheek in one hand, tipping her head back as he kissed her one last time. She refused to say goodbye to Fitz, because this wasn’t the end of their story. It couldn’t be.

Instead, she turned, straightened her shoulders and marched toward the lobby doors, wheeling her suitcase behind her. She got halfway across the lobby, heading for the cab stand, when she spotted May waiting just outside, in front of a black SUV parked at the curb. One of the hotel attendants was cowering behind a kiosk, pretending to keep busy.

May gazed at her sympathetically as Jemma came out into the bright sunshine, and Jemma couldn’t bring herself to even fake a smile. “You ready?” May asked.

Jemma opened her mouth, closed it, and looked over her shoulder. “I…hang on, one last thing.”

May lifted her eyebrows, reaching for Jemma’s bag as Jemma opened the hotel doors and dashed back through the lobby, her heart pounding. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t leave without telling Fitz, at least once, exactly how she felt. She’d spent all morning trying to show him, but it wasn’t enough.

Fitz looked up in surprise as she burst through the doors, setting down his tea. The breakfast plates had all been cleared away, though she knew he couldn’t have finished everything. His hair was a wild tangle, like he’d been running his hands through it. “Jemma?” He started to stand, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?” 

She came to a halt in front of him and stared up into his face, gathering her courage. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…” She lifted up on her tiptoes, bracing herself against his chest, and kissed him quickly. “I love you, Leopold Fitz.” Then she whirled around and headed for the doors before she completely broke down.

May was waiting in the car as Jemma slid into the front seat, wiping tears from her eyes. “Now you’re ready?” May said, sounding skeptical. Jemma nodded, unable to trust her voice.

The landscape slid by in a riot of green and blue as they wound along the coast, heading for the airfield. Jemma kept her eyes trained out the window, concentrating on what she needed to do when she got back to the Bus. Write her mission report, for one thing, and tidy up the lab. She had to unpack, of course, and…Jemma was startled out of her mental list-making as May patted the back of her hand.

“It’ll all work out,” May said.

“I hope so,” Jemma said softly.

May shot her a small smile. “Trust me.”

“Sorry I was late,” Jemma offered.

“Coulson’s running behind, too.”

Jemma nodded, unable to find the energy to ask what had held him up. Probably just the paperwork from the incident last night.

They arrived at the Bus a short time later and Jemma dragged her suitcase to her bunk, staring at the neatly made bed. It looked too small. And too empty. She let out a long sigh.

“I know, it’s a little weird being back, right?”

Jemma’s head jerked up in surprise. “Daisy!” She grabbed her friend, hugging her tightly. “How are you? Feeling better?”

“Better than you, I think,” Daisy said, grimacing. “Although the hug’s a little tight.”

“Oh, sorry.” Jemma sheepishly released her. “And I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Me too, but enough about me.” Daisy dragged Jemma into her bunk and sat down on the bed. “Are you okay? Seriously, you look like someone just ran over your dog.”

Jemma wrinkled her nose and settled beside Daisy. “Is that really an expression? It’s awful.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Stop avoiding the question. I know you and Fitz were, uh, getting close. It must have been hard to say goodbye.”

Jemma hunched her shoulders. “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

Drawing her knees up to her chest, Jemma hugged them tightly. “I told him I loved him.”

Daisy’s jaw dropped. “You…whoa, Jems. Are you…did you really?”

Jemma nodded, staring at the floor. 

“What did he say?” Daisy asked.

Jemma shrugged. “I didn’t really give him a chance to say anything. I just couldn’t leave without…without telling him. I probably shouldn’t have, I know, so soon after we met, I just-” She hid her face against her knees. “I’m so terrible at this.” 

“Oh, Jemma,” Daisy sighed, leaning over to give her a one-armed hug. “I’m sure…look, yesterday, when you guys were getting that—ugh—terrible Stark thing off me, he wouldn’t stop talking about how great you were. The guy thanked me for talking you into this mission.” Daisy gave Jemma a crooked smile. “I didn’t really expect things to turn out like this, but it’s not bad, is it, that you met him?”

“No, definitely not,” Jemma said firmly. “We’ve got…there are some projects we want to work on together.”

“Awesome,” Daisy said, hugging her a little tighter. “Then you’ll see him again someday. And if he doesn’t tell you he loves you back, I’ll make him disappear.”

“Daisy!” Jemma let out a startled laugh. “You can’t do that, he’s an MI6 agent.”

“You’re right. I’ll have May help.”

Jemma rolled her eyes and finally uncurled herself. “She wouldn’t help you do any such thing.”

“I bet you ten bucks she totally would.”

“Stop threatening to disappear my boyfriend, please.”

Daisy gasped, sounding delighted. “Your boyfriend?”

“Well, I didn’t ask him, really, but I would assume that yes, we’re…” Jemma frowned. “I should have asked, shouldn’t I? God, I’m doing everything wrong. He probably thinks I’m insane.”

“Fitz does not think you’re insane,” Daisy laughed. “I think it’s safe to say he’s pretty much the only one who totally gets you.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Jemma smiled a little. “Is it too soon to call and tell him I miss him terribly?” 

“Um-”

“Coulson’s here,” May called. “Wheels up in ten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We can't leave you here for too long! And both Gort and SunAlso have new projects they're itching to share, so to wrap up Aloha, Chapter 21 will be posted next Monday, and the final Epilogue next Thursday. Thank you all so much for coming on this journey with us and we love to hear your thoughts on our craziness, either here or hit us up on tumblr!


	21. E Hoʻokuʻu

He should have tackled her.

Made her stay long enough for him to at least say the words back to her.

Jemma loved him.

Fitz ran a hand through his hair as he unlocked their room. It was heaven and hell. How was he supposed to go back to his flat and his work without her? It was like all the sun had been drained from his life.

He knew she couldn’t just leave her job, she was under contract just like him, and he wouldn’t ask her to anyway. He cursed and kicked the bed.

Bloody fucking hell. 

He threw things into his bag with little care. In the bathroom, he found she’d already neatly packed his toiletries and he felt like punching the wall. How long would it be before he saw her smile again? Felt her touch?

He hoped his friends weren’t planning to spend the evening celebrating before they all took a red-eye flight back to London left. Fitz knew he’d be terrible company, either raging at the universe or sobbing into his beer.

He stowed his toiletries bag in his knapsack and yanked open the drawer of the bedside table. The only thing in there was the box of condoms. He picked it up as image after image of being tangled with Jemma rushed through his mind.

He hadn’t the foggiest when he was going to talk to her again, let alone…

Taste her, feel her, hold her.

Make love to her.

With a growl, he walked to the bin and tossed the box in.

They’d make plans as soon as they could to meet somewhere, and he’d put in for time off. He had plenty of that saved up.

It’d be another hotel room, but that didn’t matter. When he saw her again the first thing he was going to do was yank her clothes off and…

“Hey, Turbo.”

Fitz nearly jumped out of his skin.

Mack snorted. He was standing just inside the door of the room. “You packed?”

“Yeah,” Fitz said, rubbing his forehead. “What’s up?”

“I know you want to wallow in self-pity, but there’s someone that wants to see us.”

Fitz sighed. “Sure. Terrific.” He didn’t even care who it was. Zipping up his bag and shouldering his knapsack, he followed Mack out of the room. Behind Fitz, the door swung closed on the place he’d been the happiest in his entire life.

Mack put a hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “You doing okay?”

“No.”

****

Jemma knew she was trying to smile at Daisy, but she must be failing horribly because Daisy made a face.

“I’m just going to check and make sure things are secure in the lab,” Jemma said, standing and brushing past her friend.

This was much harder than she’d anticipated it being. It was probably too soon to text Fitz. Where was he right now? Maybe in their room? Or with Mack? Perhaps he was sitting by the pool or reading on the beach. Panic welled up in her at not knowing. Which was ridiculous. He was fine. They’d see each other as soon as they could.

She squeezed her hands into fists.

At the bottom of the steps, she nearly ran right into Coulson. He must have just parked Lola because the cargo bay doors were still open.

He looked at Jemma over the top of his shades. “You okay?”

Oh, dear lord. Was everyone going to be constantly asking her that? “Maybe?”

Coulson smiled. “I’m sure you will be soon.”

He walked toward the stairs, and she glared at his back. What load of rubbish. “How do you know,” she snapped, sounding more upset than she meant to.

Coulson turned back around. “I promise, Jemma, trust me.”

“It’s just…” She took a shuddering breath. “Does SHIELD have a London office?”

“Of course.” He crossed his arms.

Her voice was small. “Do you think I could transfer there?”

“I don’t think they have a lab, but usually there’s an opening for a secretary.”

Jemma frowned. Not what she was hoping for, but she’d take it. And she wouldn’t tell Fitz, not until she was standing on his doorstep. His smile would be blinding, he’d take her hand and pull her inside, and she’d be naked—

Jemma coughed. Coulson was still standing there. “That’s fine. I can type, and I’m very organized.”

He nodded and walked over to put his hands on her shoulders. “Jemma, I understand. Believe me, I do. But I think you belong here. Give it a week, okay? Just a week. If you still feel the same, I’ll get you to London myself. Can you do that? A week?”

Jemma looked at the floor. “Fine. A week. But I’ll still be sure.”

Coulson squeezed her shoulders. “We’ll see,” he said before letting go and jogging up the metal stairs.

Jemma had a flash of irritation. What did he know? She was a mess. A puzzle that couldn’t be put together because half of the pieces were missing. And how presumptuous of him to assume that her feelings were so shallow that a few days would make a difference about how much she missed Fitz. Really. It was preposterous.

Hopefully, the week would fly by, and she could be horrendously smug as she directed Coulson to take her to London. One single week until she’d see Fitz again.

It was going to take forever.

She turned towards the lab, shaking her head. Behind her, there was a squeal of tires and the sounds of car doors opening and closing.

Jemma groaned. Now what? She couldn’t deal with one more thing. She was on edge, and really, really didn’t want to be faced with someone else’s problems when her own seemed so impossible.

There was the clang of multiple feet on the gangway, and Jemma turned around to greet whoever it was, though she didn’t have it in her to give them one of her usual smiles.Trying to at least appear like she wasn’t going to bite their head off, she looked up.

Wait.

That was Mack, who’d been working with Fitz. He had a suitcase in his hand.

What was going on?

Behind him was Hunter, his arm around a limping Bobbi, who was arguing with him about just how much help she needed, and that grabbing her ass certainly didn’t qualify as assistance.

Bringing up the rear, a shy smile on his face was—

“Fitz!” Jemma cried. He dropped the suitcase in his hand as she barreled past everyone and hurled herself into his arms.

She squeezed him tight. It’d been an eternity since she’d seen him. Far too long. A lifetime.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “You didn’t give me enough time to respond back at the hotel.”

“I love you, too,” she said, peppering his face with kisses. “What are you doing here?”

“Your boss, Phil, offered us jobs,” Hunter said. “Something about an international task force and us all working well together, or some such rubbish.” He grunted as Bobbie elbowed him.

Fitz was hugging Jemma like he’d never let go. “Turns out that dinner with Coulson was some kind of job interview,” Fitz said. “I supposed it must have gone alright.”

“You’re all coming with us?” Jemma asked as the cargo bay door started to close. She could hardly think as excitement whirred inside her.

“We sure are,” Mack said. “It seems like SHIELD is the place to be.”

Jemma kissed Fitz’s ear.

“I might be being paid in dog bones for all I know,” Fitz said. “I didn’t look at the contract. Coulson sat us down, asked if we were interested—”

Hunter broke in, “This dork asks: ‘Will I be posted with Jemma?’—”

“I don’t sound anything like that,” Fitz grumbled at Hunter’s horrible attempt at mimicking his accent.

Mack chuckled. “Coulson says yes, and Fitz grabs the contract out of his hand and signs it. The rest of us remembered to ask about health insurance and vacation time.”

“Which meant,” Fitz said, glaring at Hunter. “That it took that much longer for us to get here.”

Jemma pushed back from Fitz and looked into his face. She knew she was grinning as widely as he was. Taking his hand, she squeezed it tight. “C’mon, you’ve seen the lab, let me show you my bunk.”

Fitz beamed as she pulled him towards the stairs.

“Hey!” Hunter said from behind them. “Are we chopped liver? Why’s she showing just Fitz where his bunk is?”

Bobbi laughed. “Hunter, she said ‘let me show you my bunk’. I don’t think the rest of us are invited to that party.”

“Oh,” Hunter replied. “You two have fun,” he called.

Fitz was blushing, but Jemma couldn’t spare the energy to worry about what everyone else thought. She’d just been falling apart without Fitz, and now here he was, and she really needed him in her arms.

A shocked-looking Daisy waved at Fitz as they passed her.

“Can you help everyone else get situated?” Jemma said, gesturing in the direction of the stairs.

Daisy covered her smile with a hand. “I’m guessing there’s something very important Fitz needs to see?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“I’ve got it,” Daisy said. “You…take care of business.”

Jemma didn’t stop moving until they reached the door to her bunk. She opened it and Fitz followed her in. The door slid closed. They stared at each other, their chests heaving.

“This is tiny,” Fitz finally said, looking around the bunk. 

Jemma nodded. She reached up and put her hand on Fitz’s cheek. “This is real? You’re really here?”

He stepped closer to her and put an arm around her waist. “No more pretend. Not between us.”

He kissed her.

It started sweet and slow, lips against lips. Sensuous movements that sent lightning racing through her veins.

The com crackled to life, and May’s voice filled the cabin. “Our takeoff has been delayed due to incoming air traffic. We’ve got about twenty waiting minutes on the tarmac.”

“Where are we going?” Fitz asked between kisses.

“Columbia, I think,” Jemma said. “Not entirely sure, Coulson…” she trailed off. “Oh! I can’t…I can’t believe him! The nerve!”

“What’d he do?” Fitz’s fingers were working their way under her top, and she took a moment to revel in the feeling before explaining.

“I asked him to transfer me to the London office of SHIELD,” she said a bit breathlessly. “And he told me I’d have to be a secretary. Of course, I agreed.”

Fitz’s hands stilled. “Jemma!” He sounded scandalized. “You can’t—”

“Oh, don’t start telling me what I can and cannot do. And the jerk made me promise to wait a week to formally ask because he said I might not feel the same. He said that knowing you were on your way.”

Fitz shook his head as his fingers resumed petting her bare back.

Jemma basked in the attention. “I know it wouldn’t have been exciting,” she said.  “But I could have come home every night and kicked my heels off and eaten dinner with you. And it would have only been until my contract was up, and then I could have quit and gone to work for any number of places in the city.”

“I don’t like the idea of you ever giving anything up for me, but I can’t say that spending every night with you doesn’t sound anything besides amazing. Though I think my department heads would have been less than happy. They’re used to me working long hours and being willing to stay late or arrive early, or just not go home while I’m solving whatever problem they have or am fixing whatever vital piece of equipment was trashed. If I had you in my bed, I’d barely make it to work on time and would leave the second my shift was over. Nothing would be getting done.”

“I suppose having us working together really is best for productivity, then,” she said, rather pleased with the idea he’d brass everyone at his job off to spend more time with her.

“I rather fancy never having to look further than across the room to find you.”

Jemma melted. “I think we’re exactly where we both should be.”

****

Fitz could barely believe Jemma was in his arms and there wasn’t going to be a terrible, awful, horrible period of time away from her.

He kissed her again, reveling in how she clung to him.

Nothing in his life, no book, nor song, nor movie, had ever prepared him for how much he loved Jemma. The sheer enormity of it was overwhelming. His heart was beating wildly as their tongues tangled together.

His bloody morning had been wonderful, then wretched, and had circled back around to wonderful again. Jemma undid the buttons of his shirt and he shrugged it off while backing up in the direction of her bed. Her fingers made quick work of his zip and he kicked off his shoes before shoving his pants and trousers down his legs. He stepped out of them and sat on the edge of the cot, stroking his rapidly hardening cock as Jemma pulled off her clothes as well, leaving them in an untidy heap on the floor that let him know just how badly she wanted him.

“How thick are the walls?” he asked as she straddled him.

“Not very, we’re going to have to be quiet.”

“I can do that.” Hell, he could do anything as long as he had her. Her fingers slid into his hair and she tilted his face up so she could kiss him. Her tongue was sweet when it swept into his mouth. He moaned as softly as he could. With one hand he grabbed her luscious ass and with the other he palmed her breast, the tip a hard point against his hand.

She felt like fate. Like she was his world. Without her, he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

“I love you too.”

He could happily spend the rest of eternity hearing her say that.

The plane jerked and began rolling.

He kissed her harder, needing her, wanting her. It was like he’d been freed from a death sentence to not be going back to his lonely flat, to not be spending long days hidden away toiling at mostly useless projects, to not be walking home one more time to eat by himself in a Jemma-less world.

The plane shuddered to a halt, but the engines were still going. Their drone a constant presence in the background. 

Fitz slid his hand down from the delightful roundness of her breast, over her belly, to slip in between her legs. He groaned when he found her slick, and she mewled at his touch. What had he ever done to deserve her? Her clit was swollen, and he rubbed it, enjoying how she wiggled against his fingers.

His prick was aching, not getting near enough attention where it was bumping against her thigh.

He needed to be in her, to feel her body welcome his. He reached for himself, then groaned in frustration and flopped backwards.

“Fitz?” Jemma asked, leaning over him.

“I was…not in a great mental place right after you left. I went to pack and tossed the bloody condoms in the rubbish bin because I couldn’t face not knowing when I’d see you again.”

Jemma laughed. Which made her breasts bounce in a rather lovely way. He reached up and tweaked her nipple, and she shoved her chest forward. “I’m sorry to laugh, but it does sound so much like something you’d do. Don’t worry, I grabbed a few out of the box when I was packing, sort of a keepsake.”

“Thank god,” he breathed.

She stood, and he was treated to a rather spectacular view of her rear as she opened a drawer and took out one of the little squares.

His cock pulsed in anticipation as she returned to him after opening the condom and tossing the wrapper in a bin. She handed it to him and crawled onto the bed, her arse towards him. Fitz grabbed her hip to keep her where she was and managed to crawl onto the bed and kneel behind her.

****

Jemma’s body was humming with desire.

Fitz’s hand left her, and she supposed he was rolling the condom on, which only gave her more time to think about how wonderful everything was.

She wanted to laugh at past-her for thinking he was with someone else, or that he was some practiced seducer with more flings than she could count and that he wouldn’t want her to be a part of his life after the mission had ended. 

It was so much better knowing he was simply the person she got along with and found more attractive than any other in the universe. That he would love and care for her and that no matter what, he’d be by her side.

Jemma shuddered as Fitz trailed a hand down her spine and curled it around her hip. His cock nudged at her opening, and she sighed in contentment as she arched her back.

“We’re cleared, prepare for takeoff,” May said over the intercom. The plane started rolling again, and the engines’ whine grew louder.

Fitz thrust forward, and Jemma moaned as he filled her. This was much better than sitting in the common area and reading a magazine, which was what she usually did during takeoff.

He rocked his hips, slow plunges that made her entire body pulse with heady need, but she’d missed him too much not to be looking at him.  

Jemma glanced over her shoulder. “Fitz, I want to turn over. Let me see you.”

He immediately pulled out of her, and she dropped onto the bed, rolling and scooting until her legs were splayed on either side of his hips.

His expression was one of fierce concentration. He had one hand on his cock and used the other to tease her clit with a few strokes before dropping down and thrusting into her again.

This was much better. Jemma wrapped her legs around his waist and put her hands on his back.

The plane shuddered as it revved up for take-off and the vibrations shaking them were certainly a bonus.

Fitz kissed her, and their mouths were uncoordinated as their bodies collided.

She couldn’t hold him close enough.

Jemma swiveled her hips, grinding against him with each thrust, while the coil of impending pleasure tightened inside her. As if he could read her mind, and she wasn’t sure he couldn’t, Fitz jerked harder, making his strokes more intense.

Her hand trailed down his back to grip his rear, the clench of his muscles under her hand driving her even closer.

The Bus thundered down the runway, the nose tilting up.

Fitz braced a hand but didn’t stop moving.

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.

“I love you,” he panted.

“Oh,” she gasped.

The plane lifted into the air, and her stomach dropped right as her climax crashed into her.

Her eyes closed, and she held onto Fitz tightly as she rode out the surging waves of bliss.

The plane was still angled sharply upwards, climbing higher and higher into the clear blue sky.

Her body was still pulsing with pleasure when Fitz groaned loudly, and he lost his rhythm. With a final deep push, he came, his arms shaking as his cock bucked.

The Bus leveled off as Fitz collapsed against her, breathing raggedly. Then he grunted, and pulled out of her, stumbling to her desk and dealing with the condom. She had to suppress a giggle when he wrapped it carefully in tissue and buried it deep in the rubbish bin.

He returned to the bed, snuggling in and spooning her.

“Much better than our first flight together,” he said.

“Entirely,” she agreed, yawning. Her emotions had been on a roller-coaster all day, and now that she was safe in Fitz’s arms with no worries about or deadlines on their time together, she felt exhausted. “Though it is a bit sad to be leaving paradise.”

He nuzzled the back of her neck as he draped a arm over her. “I have all the paradise I’ll ever need right here.”

“Oh, Fitz.”

****

Fitz had no idea how long they’d slept when he woke, fuzzy-headed and with his stomach growling. How did one even keep track of time on an airplane that could fly anywhere at a moment’s notice? He needed to use the loo and scrounge up some dinner, but it was difficult even to contemplate moving away from the warm woman cuddled against him.

He tried to twist enough to see the clock and the motion must have woken Jemma up. She stirred and made a happy noise, rolling so she could squish her face against his neck.

Fitz gave up worrying about anything else in favor of holding her.

“Mmm…oh, dear,” she said. “I think I’m rather dehydrated.”

“I’m starving,” he added, his stomach growling again to emphasize the point.

Jemma sat up, looking worried. “We better find something for you. I think we’ve missed dinner.”

She shooed him out of bed, and he got dressed along with her. After she showed him where the WC was, and he was less than pleased to find out it was a shared one—living on a plane was going to take some getting used to—she gave him a quick tour that ended in the kitchen.

Where Daisy and Hunter were having beers.

Fitz knew he was blushed profusely under their combined stares, though Jemma only rolled her eyes and brushed past them to get water bottles and the stuff for sandwiches out of the fridge.

“Next time I can go shopping I’ll get the ingredients to make you my signature sandwich, I think you’ll like it, but it’s going to have to be ham for tonight. I’ll slice up an apple and get us a few crisps to go along with it.”

Daisy was smirking. “You guys missed the briefing.”

“There was a briefing?” Fitz squeaked, tugging at his collar.

“Yeah, mate,” Hunter said. “Welcome aboard, here’s your duties, all that sort of thing.”

“We didn’t get the message,” Jemma said, her eyes fixed on the mustard she was spreading.

Daisy giggled. “I’m sure whatever you were showing Fitz was way more important.”

Fitz could feel his ears burning.

“Though in all seriousness,” Daisy said after another sip of her beer. “Coulson said to let you two know he wants a prototype of the night-night gun functional and in his hands in less than forty-eight hours.

Jemma paused and shared a glance with Fitz over her shoulder. They had some work to do.

Fitz rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, was that forty-eight hours from when he said it, or forty-eight hours from when we start working?”

Hunter snorted. “From the way he looked, it was forty-eight hours from forty-eight hours ago.”

“Oh.”

Jemma retrieved plates from the cabinet. “We’ll do our best.”

“Right,” Daisy said. “By the way, Hunter and I were just having a discussion, and I think we’ve come to an agreement.”

Fitz gritted his teeth, but Jemma paused to look at Daisy.

“See,” Hunter continued. “We think that you should name your first after either her or me.”

“First…prototype?” Fitz asked. That was an odd request.

“First child,” Daisy clarified.

Jemma paused mid-apple-cut and glanced at Fitz again, though this time her expression was wistful. “Daisy is a lovely name,” she said, returning to her task.

Fitz’s mind was reeling. “I’m not sure I can say the same for Lance.”

“Hunter wouldn’t be a terrible middle name.” Jemma turned and placed a plate in his hands before picking up her own.

“I guess,” he said.

Hunter and Daisy clicked the necks of their beer bottles.

“Oh, and I get to be a bridesmaid,” Daisy said as Jemma headed towards the dining area.

“Of course,” Jemma said over her shoulder. Her voice lowered. “Though she’s going to be wearing the worst hot pink dress with a giant bow on her butt.”

“We’re getting married?” Fitz asked, still confused as to exactly what was happening. This was a lot of babies and weddings all at once for him. Though it did sound a great deal like every one of his dreams coming true at the same time.

Jemma set her plate down on a table. “Any further planning can wait until you ask.”

He sat down and picked up his sandwich. “Do you think where we’re going will have a jewelry store?”

Jemma’s smile was brilliant.

“I do suppose there will be one or two.”

“Good. Problem solved. Now about the dendrotoxin dosing, I was thinking I might be able to eke out an extra—”

Jemma eyes were soft as she reached out and put a hand over his. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He turned his hand over and threaded their fingers together, but his mind was already back on the night-night gun since everything else was settled. He had Jemma and food, which meant that life had never been better.  “Now as I was saying—”


	22. Epilogue

“You know,” Coulson said. “It’s kind of hard to believe now, but this really wasn’t what I’d expected.”

Fitz turned towards him, surprised, as Coulson took a sip of his beer and gazed out over the ocean. “You didn’t? But Jemma insisted on everyone getting detailed itineraries even though most of us live on the same base.”

Coulson smiled and shook his head before reaching out to pat Fitz’s shoulder. “I don’t mean the wedding, Fitz.” He gestured toward the beach with his beer bottle and Fitz got distracted for a moment, his eyes fixed on the spot where he’d exchanged vows with Jemma just a short time ago. He still had a hard time believing it’d actually happened. “Last year, when I was planning that Stark op, this wasn’t really what I had in mind.”

“Oh.” Fitz frowned, confused.

Coulson squeezed his shoulder companionably. “I was just hoping to find someone Jemma could tolerate working with, but we got a lot more than that, Fitz. They told me you were good. Smart, efficient, hard-working, but they left out all the important stuff. You’re an amazing agent and friend. The team’s not going to be the same without you.”

“Oh,” Fitz said again, his voice hoarse. “We’re not planning on leaving, exactly, we’re just…”

“I know.” Coulson dropped his hand. “But some very lucrative offers have crossed my desk on their way to you and Jemma lately. Any one of those places would be lucky to have you.”

Fitz cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you.”

“Let’s hope it’s not too soon, but from the sounds of those vows, you’re going to have bigger things to worry about than a bunch of Russians before long.” Coulson lifted his beer bottle, tipping it in Fitz’s direction until Fitz finally remembered his own beer, dangling from his fingertips. “To family, Fitz.”

“Family,” Fitz managed around the lump in his throat, clinking their bottles together. The sound of the waves was faint beneath the music coming from the hotel patio at their backs, where a small dance floor had been set up.

Jemma had planned everything perfectly, right down to requesting the same room they’d stayed in all those months ago. The air conditioner was still humming along, keeping the room cool enough that they could spend the whole night curled up around each other.

Fitz glanced over to where his now-wife was laughing, her head thrown back and her dark hair shining in the afternoon sun. She’d never been more beautiful.

Coulson shook his nearly empty beer bottle. “Can I get you another?” he asked. Fitz shook his head and Coulson patted him on the back. “I’m happy for you both.”

“Thank you.”

Coulson headed for the bar and Fitz’s gaze drifted back to Jemma. Her dress left most of her back bare, her creamy skin just begging to be touched, and the music had changed to something a bit slower. He’d never enjoyed dancing before, but, as with many things, he’d come to realize that Jemma’s presence made it much more tolerable.

“Mate,” Hunter said, startling him. Fitz turned to find Hunter and Mack watching him in amusement. “You want me to get her number for you?” Hunter asked. “I can pretty much guarantee you’ll get lucky.”

“You’re hilarious,” Fitz said. “And don’t even think about giving another toast like the one last night. Bobbi’s promised to stop you by any means necessary.”

Hunter grinned. “That’s more of an incentive than a deterrent, really. Besides, that was a brilliant toast!”

“It was a rundown of the places where Jemma and I had sex the last time we were here!” Fitz hissed.

“I wanted to help you avoid accidentally repeating any,” Hunter said, solemnly placing a hand over his heart. “It’s so easy to fall into a rut after you get married.”

Mack snorted. “You give another toast and I’m telling Bobbi you said that.”

“That’s low, Mack. I’m the reason these two lovebirds made it this far in the first place.”

“Uh, I really don’t think so,” Fitz interjected.

“Yeah, Daisy and I were there, too, you know.” Mack crossed his arms.

“Jemma and I would have figured things out just fine on our own!” Fitz protested. Hunter and Mack both lifted their eyebrows. “Fine, maybe some things were helpful.” He held up a hand as Hunter opened his mouth. “But you still can’t give a toast.”

“Marriage has already changed you.” Hunter sighed dramatically. “Next, you’ll be telling me to behave myself when we’re down in Columbia and you’re off honeymooning with the missus.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “At least I’m not the one who’s going to have to tell Coulson you’re in jail again.”

Mack laughed. “Maybe this time we’ll leave him there for a couple days, enjoy the peace and quiet.” He slung an arm around Fitz’s shoulders. “Congratulations, man.”

***

“Hey, don’t look now, but I think that guy is totally checking you out.” Daisy waggled her eyebrows, sipping a daiquiri that was as colorful as her dress.

Jemma glanced toward the beach just in time to catch Fitz watching her with a soft smile on his face before Hunter and Mack distracted him. Jemma couldn’t seem to stop smiling herself. “I should hope so, we haven’t even been on our honeymoon yet.”

“The best part of any marriage,” Bobbi observed. “Hunter didn’t even drive me crazy for once.”

Daisy laughed. “Come on, you love it when Hunter drives you crazy.”

“You know,” Jemma said. “There no reason you two couldn’t get married again. I have it on good authority it’s rather wonderful.”

Bobbi shot her an amused look. “You’ve been married for an hour, tops.”

“It’s been a very nice hour!”

Bobbi’s cheeks tinged with pink. “We made that mistake once already. Besides, Hunter claims he’s allergic to weddings.”

They all stood in silence for a moment, watching the men on the beach. The smile on Fitz’s face had morphed into a grin, and the sun lit up the messy halo of his curls. Jemma hadn’t thought her heart could get any fuller, but somehow it kept growing and making room for all the things she found to love about him.

“Hunter totally cried, didn’t he,” Daisy said.

“Yep,” Bobbi confirmed.

“Well, I expect to be invited to your next not-a-wedding, whenever that is,” Jemma said cheerfully. “It’s nice to have everyone together, isn’t it?”

Bobbi shot her an amused look. “Yeah, that part’s not bad. And Hunter looks great in a suit.”

“Speaking of suits,” Daisy said, craning her neck to peer over Bobbi’s shoulder. “Have you seen Trip?”

“Oh, I think I saw him over by the bar. I’m glad he was able to get away from the Hub for a while.” Jemma started to turn but Daisy vehemently shook her head.

“No, I mean, have you  _ seen _ Trip? I swear, it should be illegal to fill out a pair of pants like that.”

Jemma pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Um, I don’t think that’s against the law quite yet.” Her eyes strayed to Fitz’s behind. “Lucky for us.”

Daisy handed Bobbi her mostly-empty daiquiri glass and did a quick spin. “How does my bow look?”

“Enormous,” Bobbi deadpanned.

“Perfect.” Daisy beamed at them before heading in Trip’s direction.

“That dress is so pink it hurts,” Bobbi observed, taking a cautious sip of Daisy’s drink.

“Believe it or not, she picked it out herself.”

Bobbi laughed, the sound bright and clear, and Jemma saw Hunter turn to look in their direction. “I definitely believe it,” Bobbi said, finishing off the daiquiri. “I think I’m going to get one of these, do you want one?”

Jemma shook her head. “Maybe in a bit. Go have fun.”

Bobbi headed in the direction of the bar and Jemma caught a glimpse of her parents conversing with Coulson and May nearby. Daisy and Trip were walking towards the dance floor, the palm trees overhead were swaying in the breeze, and everything was nearly perfect.  

Sometimes, usually when she woke up before Fitz and had a moment to just lie there, basking in his nearness, Jemma could scarcely believe this was her life. When she’d joined Coulson’s SHIELD team, she’d been determined to make the most of it. It was going to be her grand adventure, filled with new experiences and new places and new people.

She certainly hadn’t expected to also find love.

Hunter and Mack had joined Bobbi at the bar, and Jemma felt an arm slide around her waist as Fitz came up behind her. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?” he murmured, kissing the spot just under her ear. Jemma hummed happily and turned to face him. Now everything was perfect.

She curled her arms around his neck and Fitz pulled her close, his hands caressing her bare back. “Once or twice,” she replied.

Fitz laughed, and she wondered if it was possible to ever be too happy. “Well, you’ll just have to put up with it a few more times.” He brushed a kiss across her lips and Jemma closed her eyes, drinking in the moment.

“You look rather dashing yourself,” she said.

Fitz leaned in to give her another lingering kiss and a tingle zipped up Jemma’s spine. Tipping her head back, Jemma smiled up him. “Everyone’s having a good time, aren’t they?”

“I certainly am.” He peered over his shoulder towards the bar. “Have you seen my mum?”

“I think I saw her heading towards the dance floor earlier with Brad and George.”

“Really?”

She patted his chest. “I told you she’d enjoy meeting everyone.”

“You’re right, as always.” Fitz was swaying slightly to the music, and Jemma relaxed against him. The noise of the surf was almost lost among the chatter of her friends and family, but still there, faint and rhythmic like the beat of a heart. Fitz let out a sigh. “How long do we have to stay?”

Jemma peeked up at him, amused. “It’s our wedding, Fitz.”

“We’ve done the important bits. Everyone will be fine without us.”  

“Not much longer, and then it’ll be just you and me. Are you going to give me any hints about where we’re going?”

Fitz’s arms tightened around her. “Did you pack a bikini?”

“I packed three.”

“Well,” Fitz murmured, nipping at her lower lip and sliding his hands down to cradle her bum. “You’re not going to need them.”

Jemma pulled her head back, startled. “I won’t?” she asked, perplexed.

Fitz grinned in a way that made her pulse race. “We’ve got a private beach.”

Letting out a startled laugh, Jemma felt her cheeks heat. “Oh,” she said breathlessly. “Maybe we should leave soon.”

The corners of Fitz’s eyes crinkled. “Can I get my wife a daiquiri before we go?”

Jemma bit her lip, staring up into his face. “You’d better make it a virgin,” she murmured, her voice low. Fitz stared at her for a moment, confusion flickering across his features. She saw the moment he caught on, and her heart grew just a little more. Fitz’s hand slid down, his palm against her stomach.

“Jemma,” he breathed.

The sound of his cell phone startled them both, and Fitz fumbled in his pocket, frowning. “Everyone’s here,” he said, perplexed. Jemma nestled against his shoulder as he opened the message.

**Wheels up in ten,** May had texted.

“Ready to find out where we’re heading?” Fitz asked.

Jemma stepped back and linked their fingers together. “As long as you’re there, it’ll be perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! We've appreciated every kudos, comment, and read along the way of what has been a very fun journey for both Gort and SunAlso! We love hearing from readers, whether you're reading this 10 seconds, 10 months, or 10 years or more after this fic was first posted! :-D <3 <3
> 
> -Thursday (IT'S THURSDAY!) September 13, 2018, 8:16 am-

**Author's Note:**

> We love feedback of any kind and you can find us on tumblr at [@sunalsolove](https://sunalsolove.tumblr.com/) and [@robotgort](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/robotgort)


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